


Province

by thedeadflag



Series: Province [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Explicit Language, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Nudity, Precursor to Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 17:57:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3390872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Schue has called for a late semester camping trip for the Glee Club following their crushing nationals defeat, and Rachel Berry & Santana Lopez get stuck traveling together in Rachel's Prius. When they get caught in a downpour en route, they're forced into a situation neither expected. Somewhat AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little side story(less than ten chapters, likely) I started back in June 2013 after a friend prompted me with the idea of Santana and Rachel stuck on a road trip by themselves, encountering trouble. Well, I certainly expanded on that initial idea, but they will run into trouble. I just hope you enjoy.  
> I will eventually describe violence, there will be cursing, and there will be nudity (tasteful, though)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own glee or the characters. And Michigan can be an alright place sometimes. I'm no English major, but I do like writing. :) And if I messed up any of the Spanish here in this fic, I apologize, I more or less copy-pasta'd the song lyrics, and used my admittedly middling understanding of the language for the rest (Duolingo can only take me so far). 
> 
> This story's title is based on TV on the Radio's "Province" (and the lyrics "Love is the province of the brave" from that song), because it was somewhat fitting, and it came on often when I was writing this. *shrug*

It may as well have been the end of days. Santana Lopez was close to four hours into a Barbra Streisand sing-a-long music marathon, alone in Rachel Berry's car as they traversed deeper into Michigan. Of all states in the glorious US of A, it just had to be dreary, depressing Michigan, and Mr. Schuester had to basically force them into a damn road trip to some camp ground for bonding and team building exercises. It all sounded kind of like junk, but all of her closest friends were there, and so Santana Lopez went. Just don't confuse that with the word 'followed'. Even if her friends reserved seats in other cars, leaving her to be stuck alone with Berry and her insane ways.

So when Rachel Berry's exceptionally efficient Prius finally needed to get some fuel into it, they were so far from civilization that they had to take close to a half hour detour off the main highway to reach a gas station. Of course, Santana Lopez, the one giving directions, had advised Rachel to fill up at one of the stations about an hour back, but since it would have interrupted the live performance recording of "Don't Rain on My Parade" that Rachel had blaring in her car, that idea was quickly vetoed.

So there they were, sitting at the pump, Santana guzzling whatever octane fuel the decrepit gas station from some B-rated horror movie had into the damn car, if only to just get out of that show-tunes infested prison. To be truthful, Santana Lopez didn't mind show tunes in moderation, but Rachel Berry did not entertain such restrictions, as the last four hours had taught her. The least she could do is buy herself some alone time until she had to get back in that car and on the way to the glee get-together debacle.

She let out a heavy sigh as the pump signaled the car was full up, and Santana took her sweet time walking to the driver's side window to tell Rachel she could pay. The girl was entirely too paranoid for Santana's liking, even if it was entirely justified; she'd asked for Rachel's PIN for her credit card so she could pump the gas as well as pay, in hopes that she might sneak inside and buy something like pork rinds with it just to aggravate Berry's sensitive vegan heart a bit. Though luckily, she managed to be suspicious enough around the keypad to make Rachel fumble her PIN twice, buying her even more of a temporary reprieve from the Streistravaganza.

The only fortunate thing about getting back into the car was that the storm that had been brewing for the past hour or so had finally unleashed the torrents of rain it was holding back, leading to something of a torrential downpour that Rachel Berry had to navigate through on a shoddy, unmaintained back road. Which, of course, meant that Rachel needed to concentrate, which led to a temporary hiatus of the music marathon. This could have been a good thing, but the intermission that took its place was a primo grade Rachel Berry freak-out session complete with incoherent babbling, scared shrieks, and rants about the importance of weather networks to warn people ahead of time about such storms. Apparently, as Rachel insisted at least a dozen times, there were no such warnings made up until the time of their departure, making them solely responsible for their fates and possible deaths. Leave it to Rachel Berry to amp up the dramatics in the absolute worst of times, because while she was in the middle of one of her weather-related rants, her left front tire bounced in and out of a pothole, the impact causing the tiny babbling diva to panic, and soon the car was careening toward something of a moderately steep descent before Santana's hand could grab the wheel.

It was a strange feeling, the Prius getting airborne for a half second; in that moment, Santana knew that if she were to die, she would haunt Rachel Berry's ghost until the end of time. She would somehow discover a TARDIS somewhere and go back to when Rachel WAS alive, and haunt her then too. She knew that ever since she and Brittany watched the new Doctor Who series, that Britt had been working on a time machine much in the same vein, and while she was never all that confident in the girl's academic abilities, she happened to be confident in her best friend's brand of intelligence and creativity.

Thoughts of time machines and ghostly vendettas were shaken from Santana's mind as the car made impact with the ground, Rachel's head cracking audibly against the glass as the car began to tumble violently down the hill. It was after the third roll that Santana felt her consciousness slip away from her, the angry Spanish curses and threats she was busy tossing out blurring to a halt as everything went black.

* * *

Everything was blurry at first, and there was a blinding pain throbbing in her right temple, as well as a distinct feeling that she wasn't quite on level ground. As Santana gained some of her wits, she came to recognize the feeling; it was similar to when Sue decided to do a week of random 'stress-testing', where the flyers of the Cheerios were occasionally dropped from peak height after a throw, just to see how durable their skeletal structures were. Santana had been dropped twice that week in freshman year and suffered a moderate concussion, a compound fracture in her right wrist, as well as a broken right foot, alongside a number of sprains and bruises that made her life miserable for a while. _So…concussion…fuck, well, I didn't seem out for long, and I'm not all that dizzy or nauseous, so it's probably just minor, luckily. Those neck strengthening exercises Sue had us do probably helped in some way._

Letting out a pained groan, she turned her head to the left, her vision eventually focusing on an entirely unconscious Rachel in the driver's seat, the girl's head still and sideways against the headrest, facing slightly down at Santana, who now realized that the car was partially propped up against a tree. The diva had definitely seen better days, blood slowly streaming down her cheek from the head wound just above her hairline. Both of them were covered in bits of shattered glass, and as Santana went to angle herself to get a better look at the total damage, her right shoulder screamed out in pain, forcing a guttural groan from her throat. _Okay, not a break, but…damn it, mixed with a full-body strain, it's fucking painful…_

Santana took a moment to gather her bearings and energy, and reached blindly into the backseat, managing to find a hold on her bag after a minute or so of fumbling. Her hands quickly found the holster for her knife; the seat-belts seemed broken, or just too rattled to function enough to detach at the time, so she made quick work of the restricting straps on herself before moving to Rachel's. Despite both of them being in surprisingly good condition considering, she didn't like the idea of any more blood loss, so she carefully and painfully crawled into the back of the car, hands scraping onto broken glass in spots, and fished in her bag and the boxes they were given to carry for any useful supplies. _Well, thank fucking hell that Schue loaded us with all this extra crap…gotta hope no one else got into a car wreck, I think we've got all the first aid stuff here._

Quickly, she tossed it into the passenger seat and then flipped down the rear seats and pulled their overloaded backpacks out of the trunk, stuffing anything that wasn't first aid into them, before hopping back into the front seats again. Using her knife, she tore a swath of gauze and held it to Rachel's head wound with one hand, using the other to try for a signal, or any sort of reception on her phone to no avail. _Freaking Michigan…bet this doesn't happen in New York City or Chicago or anywhere near civilization._

Unsatisfied with her cell's inability to get even a single bar, Santana turned off and pocketed her phone, deciding to get to the more pressing matter at hand. Despite her actions many days in school, Santana really kind of enjoyed the pint-size wonder, even if only just in short bursts and on stage. The girl was a hell of a performer, and so long as she was singing instead of speaking in paragraphs complete with oxford commas and semicolons, she could stomach the girl. Berry was, after all, in glee, which meant the diva got at least minimal protection. When Santana was on the Cheerios, she'd given each of the members that service free of charge, requested or not, and had long decided to put her energy into at least keeping glee's laundry bills and clothing expenses as low as she could manage. Any excuse to keep Rachel Berry from reinforcing her position as the top patron of whatever mystical thrift shop she visited in her shire homeland was worth jumping on, anyway. She wasn't entirely sure who made those owl and reindeer sweaters, or who supplied stores with so much argyle that the government could realistically classify Berry's closet as a potential fashion disaster equivalent of Ms O'Leary's cow, and she wanted to keep it that way; quarantined. Besides, she was sure that one day, if Kurt ever got into fashion, he could find out the culprits for her, and Santana would gladly push aside her ethical concerns over homicide.

Santana used one of her spare tank tops to brush as much glass off of Rachel's unconscious body as possible, just so she could safely lean over by the girl and see to her head wound. Using her hands, she worked to part the sticky blood-matted hair, the fresh seeping blood making the search for the gash rather quick. Santana frowned at the cut, it wasn't long, but it looked like it could be a little deep. She got a new swath of gauze and applied their lone cloth compress kit to hold it in place so she could use both hands to check for other wounds. _Well, considering she was covered up like an Egyptian sweater mummy on one of the hottest damn days of the year, I probably won't have much to check…_ she thought, looking over the girl for any blood stains or tears in the fabric, randomly picking at the sweater to see if there was any resistance.

It was only when she was finishing bandaging up the small cuts on Rachel's right hand that the small diva began to shift into consciousness. Which, of course, led to Rachel swinging her arms and groaning at Santana to stop murdering her. Obviously.

Disregarding the slowly flailing limbs and dazedly panicked gibberish, she took hold of the girl's wrists and stared her in the eye. It wasn't often that she ever had to perform first aid on anyone, but Brittany had a fantastically sad tendency to get concussed, only to come to in a daze, thinking Lord Tubbington's mafia friends were interrogating her over the contents of her diary or her time machine. Sometimes both. So Santana was used to dealing with half-conscious, scared, desperately violent women. At least, so long as that position was held temporarily; she'd do poorly as a caretaker at a drug rehab facility or a long-term care home for serial killers with dementia and those kinds of mental illnesses.

"Berry, you need to calm down, you've been in a car accident." Santana spoke as calmly and slowly as she could, slightly discouraged that while Rachel's eyes looked more focused, it only seemed to spur her ridiculous terror of being in a confined space with the same Santana Lopez that had made her life hell in past years, all while feeling tremendously sore and stiff if Santana's first-hand experience could be translated.

It was only when she saw Berry's eyes flitting between her and the unsheathed hunting knife on the floor by the passenger side seat that it kind of clicked, and she started to start paying attention to the girl's wailing.

"Berry, I used the knife to cut our seat belts, stop trying to reenact a scene from a B-rated horror film! Now sit still, you're hurt!" She demanded, raising her voice in hopes it would silence the diva. It managed to stop her words, but only led to a fresh stream of tears, matching the pitter-patter of rain on the car roof and somewhat intact windshield.

"Why would I be hurt? What did you do to me?!" Rachel cried out, looking panic-stricken at her slightly bandaged hands.

"Hey, I'm not the one who decided to panic over a stupid pot-hole in the road, and ridiculously swerve off the road and into this perfectly comfortable and hospitable ravine." Santana grit out, slowly guiding one of Rachel's hands up to the head wound. "Hold your hand there and soon it might clot up and stop bleeding, and I'll be able to fix your slightly over-sized head properly."

"Oh no, my head! It could be a skull fracture, it could be deadly! I could have an aneurysm! I could have hemorrhaging! I could…" Rachel began ranting wildly, tears now fully pouring like comical waterfalls from the girl's eyes, and she couldn't help but wonder if Berry was that dramatic about everything. It was kind of entertaining, if not slightly endearing. Even if it just meant that she was formulating dozens of new outlandish pranks to test out on the girl in the future.

"Rachel, you're not going to have a damn aneurysm. It's just a small cut, but head wounds bleed a lot, and I don't need you passing out on me again after you've been concussed, alright?" She asked again in a stern voice, trying to give a serious look that wasn't entirely unfriendly or intimidating. Rachel just nodded tearfully, hiccuping sobs.

"My head hurts." The girl pouted sadly, ducking her head as she sunk back into the driver's seat.

"Just keep pressure on that, and I'll take care of the pain soon. Okay, hobbit?" Santana huffed, the feeling of blood oozing down her right arm reminding her that she has her own wounds to care for. "Now, I've got my own cuts and shit to take care of now, so just sit there quietly, be patient, and I'll get back to you."

Santana saw Rachel's head turn toward her as she freed her body of the tiny glass shards with the makeshift tank top rag, but paid the diva no mind. She had been dressed for the occasion, wearing a thin, off the shoulder tee, which meant a lot of glass got under her top, which in turn made for a lot of minor cuts. For once, Berry's fashion sense was more practical. She briefly wondered if hell had indeed frozen over, but considering the moniker her glee friends had given her, she was pretty sure she would have gotten the memo.

After cleaning the first few cuts, she just decided to remove the top altogether, the fabric proving to be more hindrance than anything. Carefully, she plucked the shards from her skin and used medical tape and whatever bandages she could find to cover them up.

"Your right arm's bleeding." She heard Rachel speak quietly, prompting her to take a gander at the limb yet again. The slightly larger wound was still there, but it had inexplicably stopped bleeding shortly after she'd removed the offending piece of glass, so she'd decided it could wait.

"Just focus on your own stuff, Berry. I'll get you your painkillers soon." Santana grumbled, continuing to work away at the smaller cuts that were still bleeding.

"Why did you help me first?" The smaller girl squeaked out, a question Santana had hoped to not answer, or need to answer. _Though Berry wouldn't be Berry if she wasn't abundantly and absurdly curious._

"Your wounds were obviously worse." Santana answered nonchalantly, her focus on finishing bandaging herself up, now covering up the cut on her arm. "Besides, glee would come after me if I let you die, and that's simply too many dead bodies for me to hide without bringing attention to myself."

She heard Rachel laugh nervously in her seat, clearly not sure if Santana was joking, and that kind of rankled her a little. It had been months since she'd legitimately threatened anyone from the group seriously with physical violence. "So where are we?" Rachel asked, her voice hoarse from crying, and likely the pain.

"Last I checked, about 20 miles away from the main highway. I don't have reception in my phone at all, and my battery's low from navigating the whole trip, so barring a miracle, I don't think it would be efficient to boot it up right now to double check." Santana noted, leaning over to remove the compression cap from Rachel for a bit, checking to see if the wound had stopped bleeding. It seemed dry, so Santana pulled the gauze off, rinsed her hair with water, and began a makeshift hair stitching job over the wound to bind it together. "The car's obviously totaled, too, and it's still raining kinda hard outside, but it's supposed to clear up tonight a bit, so that's probably going to stop soon. Sun set about an hour ago, so it's probably nine-thirty or ten at the latest. Any more basic questions I can answer while tediously wielding your stupidly thick hair to seal the deal?"

Rachel jumped in her seat a little her arms somewhat flailing against Santana as she worked away, and while she could tolerate the diva, the act was getting a little annoying. "You're using my hair to what?! You're going to give me a bald spot? Will I have to shave it? I can't go to school with a bald spot at my hairline, Santana!" The girl shrieked, and Santana wanted nothing more than to take one or both hands away from the favour she was doing the frustrating diva and strangle her a little, but despite the smaller girl's lack of trust, she was a teammate, and Santana didn't let her team down. It wasn't really in her capabilities, as far as she was concerned.

"Berry, the glue can be washed off, and the string can be untied, but you need it right now so that wound doesn't open up. I don't need you bleeding everywhere, and I don't have a fainting couch for you to use, though I almost expected you to pack one 'just in case'." Santana snarked, finishing the binding with a bit of glue before fishing in her bag for one of her beanies. "There, you can use my hat to cover it up if you're really that self conscious about it." She finished, holding out the hat.

Rachel warily took it and put it on her head, using the intact rear view mirror to ensure it looked okay, Santana assumed. "I'm sorry for driving us off the road." The girl mumbled sadly, wincing as she crossed her arms.

"Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm kind of pissed you freaked out back there. Thing is, we can't do anything about it now, so don't sweat it, short stack." Santana spoke, and she knew she was right. They were out in the middle of nowhere, with no phone, no help, and no transportation at all, or one of those magic flutes from Super Mario Bros 3 that she could use to take them to some other place. Hey, it wasn't her fault that she slowly came to love those old games; Puck was surprisingly uninteresting on his best day, and being able to waste some free time on a fun game while having the full competitive opportunity to taunt him was something she rarely passed up. Not her fault that she took advantage of the rumours about her and Puck hooking up, it was good for her rep. They shacked up twice, and the whole 'fool me twice, shame on me' thing seemed entirely applicable, but if people wanted to think she was more promiscuous than she was, then so be it. It just meant she'd have half of McKinley's population under her thumb.

"I…well, I mean…I hadn't really considered being in a car accident without access to AAA or my parents or…anyone…" Rachel started to disjointedly ramble, her brow furrowed in concentration despite her clearly sub par thoughts she was voicing. "And we can't just wait by the road for help, I doubt many cars drive this road. That gas station looked like it hadn't had a visitor in years. There were cobwebs on the PIN pad!"

Santana nodded at the single coherent thought. "We have some options. We can walk back to the main road and try to get service, or a lift by someone who isn't a serial killer…or we could walk to the gas station and wait until it opens in the morning, and use their land line." She said softly, looking out her window, up at the road hidden by bushes. "Just let me know when you want to head out, Berry." She finished, using her left hand to massage her aching shoulder.

"Santana, there are at least seven hours until the sun rises." Rachel argued, seemingly perfectly content to sit in a broken car, in broken glass, with rain misting in at them; their bodies likely getting stiffer the longer they remain stationary. At least, that's what she figured would happen. Santana thought that so long as they didn't push themselves at all, their bodies would cope well enough.

"Yeah, and while I know you're banged up, you're going to feel like hell has descended upon you tomorrow if we just stay in here and don't move. Besides, the earlier we get to the gas station, the earlier we get help, and the earlier we get well rested and out of this horrible state." Santana shot back, trying to keep calm and remain a voice of reason, but she'd had about enough of Rachel's apparent need for conflict and drama.

Rachel, thankfully, fell silent for at least two precious, worshipped minutes before her mouth opened again to break the sweet silence. "You want me to go there alone?" The diva asked, her words barely louder than a faint whisper, and if not for the slight lull in rainfall, Santana wasn't sure she would have heard it.

"Rachel, that's the worst damn idea possible." She laughed, her shoulder hurting as it shook, despite her efforts to restrain herself. "We go together."

At that, Santana reached for the leather holster she'd pushed under her seat and pulled her trusty hatchet from its home. She admired it for a moment before realizing Rachel was gaping at her wide-eyed, with fresh panic written across her face. "Berry, this isn't the Shining, or Deliverance, I'm not going to murder you." She said, hoping to reassure the girl. _I won't kill you…even if I want to sometimes…_

Rachel, for her part, grabbed the coat she'd left in the backseat and gingerly slipped it on before sitting as far away from Santana as possible in the driver's seat, pressed up against the door so the cheerleader was in full view. It was a childish effort by the diva, one she couldn't help but chuckle over.

Santana, for her part, put her hair into a bun and began removing her jewelry, stashing it in her backpack for safe keeping. She didn't want anything catching anyone's attention, and long hair was a potential safety risk when out alone. No harm in taking proper precautions.

"Why do you have a hatchet?" She heard Rachel ask from her little safe bubble by the car door.

Santana just rolled her eyes, wondering if Rachel had ever gone camping before that didn't involve a cottage or an RV or something of the sort. "Lots of campers carry hatchets. They're useful, Berry."

"But why on this trip? We're heading to a camp ground with enough facilities that it would be fairly obsolete." Rachel added, her train of thought somewhat logical, but she could sense the undercurrent of fear. She was more or less trying to have Santana admit something untrue to assuage her thoughts of the cheerleader taking her to slaughter.

"I was on the Cheerios." Santana answered simply, knowing it would frustrate the diva, a pastime that she could at least take part in if the brunette insisted on being annoying.

Rachel, now clearly flustered, just looked at her with confusion. Santana once again rolled her eyes and continued. "Look, I quit Cheerios to stick with glee, and it cost Sue her championship streak, and publicly humiliated her. While I don't think she's responsible, there's a real possibility Sue sabotaged this road trip just to get back at me, and prove again her training was effective."

"What…what training? And…Again? What does that mean?" Rachel squeaked out as Santana sharpened her hatchet. She'd always considered naming it, but she couldn't think of anything fitting.

In all honesty, Santana rarely talked about the training, but getting a bit of it off her chest wasn't the worst idea, and would certainly make Berry either impressed, or more intimidated, both of which were likely better than how Rachel was currently.

"Well, after Quinn was kicked from the Cheerios last year for being preggers, I was promoted, but Sue kept insisting that due to my ethnicity, I'd likely follow blondie's lead soon and somehow lose ownership of all my shoes in the process. So she decided that if I would end up pregnant, it wouldn't be that semester, so she gave me this weird illegal birth control device from Morocco, and decided we'd all need cohesion building." Santana noted with some amusement, recalling when their illustrious coach had informed them of her plans. "Which, of course, meant that we were drugged on our flight to what we thought was Los Angeles, and were woken five minutes from our drop zone…some mountainy forest area in northern British Columbia, Canada. We were split into threes and forced to parachute down to the training ground where we'd prove our hardiness and ability to survive."

She saw Rachel appearing shocked, appalled, and entirely confused at Santana's somewhat vague telling of her training. It felt good, getting some of Sue's antics off her chest, but she didn't feel like spilling all of it to the small diva.

"What does that mean? What happened?" Rachel asked, her curiosity clearly piqued, and Santana would hold onto those answers likely until she felt too annoyed to not snap Berry like a twig.

"I'd rather not go into it, it wasn't exactly fun, but I did learn that a hatchet is a hiker's best friend. And I can take care of myself out here, so as long as you stick with me and don't annoy me too much, I won't amend my previous agenda of murdering Mercedes to murdering you and leave your body in the wilderness where there won't be witnesses. Soil's soft with all the rain, it'd be pretty easy to dig a small hobbit grave." Santana rambled with great amusement, watching Rachel's face twist into horror before shifting to a more skeptical expression. "Of course I'm joking. Again, glee would try and kill me, and I don't have a burial ground planned out to dump the bodies into. So I'll keep this for chopping down branches and bushes and whatever, Berry. I have dreams outside of spending the next forty or so years in jail. I'm too hot for jail."

Rachel still gave her a strange, skeptical look, but with the rain having slowed to nearly a stop, Rachel nodded and gestured to her door.

Santana gaped at the girl. "Oh come on, Rachel. You have a prime opportunity to kick out a car window, and you're going to try a door? A door that probably won't open, because the car rolled so much? Live a little!" Santana called out, crawling forward enough to weasel her way into the back seat. "Go on, kick my window out, it's low to the ground, but with your height, it should be ideal."

Santana laughed at the girl's huff, and smiled when the diva hesitantly moved to the passenger seat.


	2. Chapter 2

Rachel wasn't sure she'd ever live down needing Santana's help in climbing the hill back to the road, not after repeatedly assuring the cheerleader that the ascent wasn't quite so steep. She was sure she could have made the climb if it hadn't been for the massive backpack Santana had forced her to carry on their trek. The massive hiking backpack was heavy with supplies and objects that weighed Rachel down, and despite Santana having transferred some heavier objects over to her own from the brunette's, it still seemed unnecessary. It was bad enough climbing a large, muddy hill where the ground seemed entirely insistent that she stand still, but walking miles with the large burden seemed like an excessive form of torture made worse by their injuries.

"I don't see the reason for this." She muttered out loud, the only person likely within a mile of her trudging ahead of her indifferently, constantly walking faster than her before slowing so Rachel could catch up. It was a maddening cycle, and she wished Santana would maintain a consistent pace instead. It just made her feel guiltier.

"We have to be prepared. I thought you of all people would understand that, what with your endless powerpoint presentations and lists." Santana noted calmly, turning her head slightly so Rachel could hear her better.

"I can fully understand the importance of preparation, but I cannot wrap my mind around you requiring that we basically bring all of our supplies with us on this night time jaunt of ours." Rachel said, feeling annoyed and sore enough to slip some anger-induced snark into her final few words.

Santana looked back, and even in the dim conditions, she could still spot that frustrating smirk. "Stop whining."

Whining. Rachel took a microsecond to ponder whether she was merely whining, or if there was considerable substance behind her entirely valid complaints. She couldn't believe the girl had the gall to accuse her of whining after the cheerleader's behavior all day. "Thank you for such a wonderful example of the pot calling the kettle black, Santana. If I recall correctly, it was you who was whining throughout the entire car ride, and about the trip in the first place…one which you did not have to attend, but did so anyway for some reason I cannot comprehend based on your entire lack of enthusiasm for it."

"Normally I listen to my Mexican psychic third eye when it warns me of bad ideas, but Britt's going away this summer, and I wanted to get a weekend to hang out with her before she goes. And, as always, it wasn't wrong, this trip was a bad idea. I'm stuck in the middle of nowhere with Rachel Barbra Berry." Santana ranted tiredly as they walked down the long, straight, broken road.

"I'm not even sure why Brittany is friends with you when you're so mean. She'll probably be happy to get away from you." Rachel grumbled, albeit a little too loudly, the venomous look on Santana's face filling her with regret over her words. _Well, she's been mean to me for years, and scared me, and whined all trip, and I'm not going to take it anymore! I don't have to!_ "Anyway, stop whining, I didn't kill us." She finished, hoping the change of subjects would change the potentially murderous atmosphere she'd spawned.

"Nearly did though, Berry." Santana growled, emphasizing Rachel's last name with a bit more bite than the rest of the words, though the girl schooled her expression and turned away to look forward, toward their destination again. "Gotta say, I prefer a tumble in the sheets to a tumble down a ravine, just for future reference." The cheerleader noted after about a minute of silence, the remark strange, though Rachel supposed it wasn't entirely out of place. It was well known that Santana was the proverbial school bicycle, and she supposed it was only fitting that she joke about adding her to her possibly outlandishly large tally of students she'd been sexually intimate with. Rachel was quite aware that Brittany did a similar thing, though limited to kissing; it was one thing that she long loathed Santana for. The girl had clearly been a terrible influence on poor, sweet Brittany, and it only made sense that Santana's exploits were exponentially more physically intense than Brittany's, just due to the blonde's ability to maintain her innocence and naiveté.

Thankfully, a light off in the distance allowed Rachel to avoid responding to the cheerleader's remark, and she couldn't help but feel filled with relief that someone was driving down the back road so late at night. Quickly, she dug her flashlight out of her jacket and turned it on, flashing it at the vehicle in the distance before Santana marched over and wrenched it from her grasp, turning it off.

"What was that for?!" she called out after the other girl, who was stripping her backpack off and digging around inside of it.

"Don't waste batteries, they would have seen us anyway." Santana spoke quickly, pulling her hatchet from her bag, holding the object high up on its neck. "And don't look too eager. Just stay quiet, alright?"

Rachel couldn't understand why Santana wasn't as excited as she was. _We could get a lift to a police station, or the gas station even, or they might have a cell with a signal and we could call AAA! Why is she acting like a psycho hitchhiker right now? Of course I'm not going to stay quiet, she's the least diplomatic person I've ever known, and while I may lack tact and foresight at times, I have been called charming in recent years…perhaps it's time to exercise that charm…_

The both of them stood and watched as the truck slowed to a stop across the road from them; two bulky aging men, maybe in their forties, got out and moved to the driver's side of the vehicle, facing the girls. "What are two pretty little things like you doing out here this time of night?" the larger of the two men asked, his surprise over their situation apparently worn off since her gesture of waving them down.

As Rachel opened her mouth to speak, she felt Santana's index finger on her lips. "Rachel, your voice is already hoarse from singing the whole ride up, I don't want you to feel any worse in the morning." The cheerleader spoke with an impressive amount of care laced into her voice; she'd have to give the girl some credit for her acting job later when she wasn't so furious about basically being told to shut up, or confused about why the simple invasive gesture stopped her ability to form sentences in its tracks. Santana turned, while Rachel was still momentarily shocked, and faced the men. "We ran out of gas a while back because this one was too busy singing to notice the warning light. Serves me right for sleeping instead of navigating, right? We're just walking out to get gas, noticed a place up the road a few miles away."

Rachel was surprised that Santana wasn't biting their heads off, and was being relatively polite, if a little more indifferent to the presence of the would-be aids to their cause than Rachel would prefer.

"Station's closed 'til the morning, why don't we go find you some help someplace else?" the larger man spoke, not sounding quite as cheerful and friendly as Rachel had hoped, but she always pictured people who would help hitch-hikers as rather agreeable people.

She noticed Santana shift her weight a little, her eyes squinting slightly before she cocked her head to the side. "We can probably wait until morning. Spent all day in the car, and it's nice to get some exercise in, anyway. And the air's nice out here."

Immediately, Rachel went to apologize for her 'friend's mistake, as she couldn't possibly understand why Santana would turn down the offered help. The cheerleader, seemingly in anticipation of one of her traditional Rachel Berry rants, gripped her wrist tightly in warning.

"Don't sweat it, sweet thing. I've got a cousin a few miles away who'd be willing to sell you a tank or two of gas. It's only about a half hour away from here, not too far out, and then you can be on your way." The other man called out, his offer disconcerting Rachel, as she didn't carry much cash on her, only her debit and credit cards, alongside a bit of change for buying vegan snacks if there were any available at the camp grounds. Though buying from a family member of a stranger seemed an odd offer, especially when there was likely some other open gas station within a thirty minute distance of them.

"We'll be fine, but thanks for your concern. Have a good night, guys." Santana noted sweetly, giving them a wave, signaling them to leave, and for a moment Rachel internally panicked. They had been lucky to happen upon some other living people in the middle of nowhere, why would she send them away? But the two men just slowly started to cross the street instead of climbing back into their truck, a decision that confused her.

The larger man came to a halt just a few feet away, his friend a foot or two off to the side and behind him. "Why are you two carrying so much? Let us take those backpacks off your hands." He spoke sternly, one arm out, making a gesture for Rachel to come to him. She suddenly wasn't sure what was going on, and was immediately thankful that Santana seemed to at least have some idea, her hand letting her hatchet slip to a more comfortable grip, the cheerleader moving to intercept the man.

"And I take it you're not asking." Santana spoke calmly, taking position in front of Rachel, using her free hand to lightly prod her backward, a signal she immediately understood and cooperated with. "But see, we're all packed and ready for our picnic, and she gets grumpy when she's hungry. So she's not going hungry." The cheerleader almost growled, spinning her hatchet in her hand one rotation, which caught both men's attention. Rachel briefly wondered whether Santana was just bluffing, or actually knew that she did in fact get terribly grumpy when she was hungry. Her reputation often preceded her at Berry family gatherings.

"And what exactly are you doing with that." The larger man asked, sounding confident as he took another step forward, Santana not flinching at the motion at all, unlike Rachel, who felt her body start to shake from anxiety. "Either you give us the gear, or you're coming with us." She'd never been mugged in her life, and she would have never imagined her first time would be on a broken down back road in northern Michigan, close to midnight, by some haggard, middle-aged woodsmen in a rather rusty blue truck. Her parents had often told her in the past that if she was ever in such a situation, she should comply with their demands, but it didn't seem as if Santana planned to allow that, and for probably good reason; there certainly weren't any police or help around to call, and the men were much larger than they were, and unwounded. She wasn't sure what to do at all, so she just stood and shook in place, trying not to look as terrified as she was.

"Get ready to drop your bag and run into the forest if they make a move, alright?" she heard Santana whisper back to her, before returning her focus to the men. "I'm just doing what I need to, whether you step back or not."

And almost immediately after the words had spilled from Santana's mouth, the larger man rushed her, and Rachel stumbled backward in her attempt to shrug off her backpack, falling onto her rear end as she watched the cheerleader sidestep the first punch, just ducking herself under the second punch and into a spinning motion, her momentum carrying her hatchet arm into a swift arc, the short blade embedding itself into the back of the man's upper thigh.

A loud scream tore through the cool, crisp night air, all vocabulary the man once harnessed decimated for a few moments from the pain, distracting the other man, who had been marching toward Rachel, long enough for Santana to kick over the wounded man and nearly intercept the smaller one. The three of them stood as if they were the points of an equilateral triangle, Santana turning it isosceles as she slowly shifted herself closer while the smaller man began backing off.

"Seems your boy hurt his leg something serious, Jed fucking Clampett. Might need some tending to, so why don't you do the smart thing, get into your hillbilly truck, and mosey on home…or probably to a hospital." Rachel just sat there, looking up at Santana and her bloody hatchet, standing guard in front of her, sounding very much like the head bitch in charge in the McKinley High hallways that she knew so well. It felt strange, not being the recipient of that tone, but she set it aside momentarily as her brain couldn't decide whether to have a panic attack, whether to feel relieved, or both. Her brain, ever the multi-tasker, made the most ambitious decision, something she couldn't quite fault it for, given the situation.

It was only when the truck's engine revved up and faded down the road that she let a little more relief seep in, but it wasn't enough to quell her hyperventilating or the blind panic and nausea that was descending upon her _. I was almost attacked by two strangers! For no sensible reason! What could I have done differently to prevent it? What if we run into more people, will they be the same? I can't in good conscience expect all people in Michigan to treat me like that, but…I was almost attacked! And…I couldn't call for help, I couldn't call the police, I couldn't call my dads! I…_ her thoughts shattered as reality set in alongside her open sobbing, and it was only then that she noticed that Santana was holding her and rubbing slow circles across her back, trying to calm her down. She tried smiling about the unexpectedly kind gesture, but all that her mouth allowed was another choked sob, her thoughts returning and spilling from her throat. "I…I w-want to go home, I want…I want m-my dads." She cried, her head burying itself deeper into the cheerleader's shoulder, desperately seeking any sort of comfort that could block out the harsh reality she'd become trapped in.

"I know, Rachel. I know." The other girl whispered softly, removing Rachel's face from the soft comfort of her shoulder. Santana was a vague blurry object momentarily until the girl's thumb brushed the tears from her eyes gently. "I'll get you back to them, okay? You'll be alright, I promise."

Rachel stared into the girl's dark brown eyes and saw the fiery determination she was used to, but there was a hint of concern in her expression, along with something she couldn't quite put her finger on. She had every right to be concerned, both of them did. Rachel knew that had Santana been a second or two slower, the other man would have attacked either of them, and that was a terrifying prospect that had every fiber in her body tensed.

"They attacked us." She sobbed out, trying to keep her tear ducts from working in overdrive, but it wasn't helping, so she cupped her face in her own hands and cried into them, feeling horrible for getting the both of them into such a mess. _If I didn't panic when I hit that pothole…if I got gas on the main road instead of way out here, we'd be safe and we'd be with our friends, and…and I'm just so scared and why couldn't I have just listened to her?! No wonder she hates me!_

"We're fine. They're gone…but that's why you always have to be careful when you wave people down. We're small, we have no cell service, no transportation, no friends or family nearby, and we're carrying heavy shit with us. We need to take caution, and have an escape route, alright? We can't trust anyone who isn't us." Santana spoke slowly and calmly, her hands stroking Rachel's back again.

"How did you know?" Rachel asked quietly, once she'd gotten most of her crying out of her system, and once Santana's soothing gestures had calmed her to the point where her voice could work properly again, though her body still shook tremendously, her legs too unsteady to let her do anything but sit there despite her instincts screaming at her to run.

"The way they spoke, the words they used to answer me, their requests…look, I hate to admit, but you're a nice, sheltered girl, and you haven't seen these kind of people before, but I have. And I know I can't ever make you expect the worst, because it's not your style, but Berry, you need to know how to protect yourself, and that involves knowing your context. We were sitting ducks, and they were very willing to take advantage of that, whether through stealing our shit or…well...you know." She listened to Santana speak, and couldn't help but frown at the sadness in her voice; despite the girl using her first name and complimenting her in a sort of backhanded way, she wondered how often Santana had run into similar people, and how she'd ever manage to deal with that fear and stress. It just seemed baffling and too scary to consider.

Rachel ducked her head, curling up into herself as she rocked her body back and forth slightly, feeling almost too much pent up stress and emotion inside of her, as if she could burst. "I'm so sorry, I…" she tried to apologize, in hopes that maybe it would help, but two firm hands held her still and interrupted her train of thought.

"Rachel, you need to look at me, alright?" she heard the girl's firm tone, and she complied, hoping Santana wouldn't be too mean to her. Wishing that this was all just a terrible dream, and that she'd wake up in her favourite navy blue comforter with gold stars, and her fathers would be downstairs cooking up some delicious breakfast. When she opened her eyes, Santana was giving her an expressionless look, her eyes boring into Rachel's intensely. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong, so I'm not going to hear it. It's over with, for now, and we're fine, so let's just fucking go, okay?"

Rachel nodded sadly, feeling everything but fine; she just figured that the cheerleader was tired of her and her crying, and wanted to walk ahead of her and forget about her like she was doing before the men in the truck came.

As Rachel got to her feet, she noticed Santana taking the second backpack, slipping it comically on her front, as if she were some human pack mule. "Santana, what are you doing, that's too much." She called out to the girl, who just shrugged in response. "Santana, give me the backpack."

"I will in ten minutes." The cheerleader said calmly as she gestured Rachel to walk with her, though she noticed the raven-haired girl didn't stray more than five feet from her over the next few minutes, often glancing side-long at her. "The first time I got into a situation like this, I was terrified. I wasn't ready, and it was too much to deal with…you know…emotionally and shit. Whatever."

Rachel gave Santana a curious look; it dawned on her that the girl had been entirely calm through the whole episode, and it was hard to imagine Santana Lopez terrified after wielding a hatchet in defense of them both. "I didn't…What happened?" she asked simply, feeling that maybe the girl needed to get something off her chest. That, and it was a welcome distraction to focus on someone else instead of herself for a moment. It wasn't often that Santana expressed herself in ways other than furious anger, righteous anger, jealous anger, or rage.

"That expedition Sue had us go on…we were on our fourth day and we ran into some shitty ranger straight out of Yogi Bear, as if looking like a cartoon is a logical decision that sane people make when they get up in the morning. Lise Wilkinson…you've seen her before…pale like a vampire, straight black hair, had these weird freckles on her nose and left cheek, she was a senior Cheerio last year. Anyway, she'd made a campfire the night before after me and Britt went to sleep. Campfires weren't allowed, Sue's rules, and apparently the park's rules too." Santana began, her eyes looking down the road ahead of them, glazing over somewhat, "The jackass decided to haul us to some hut somewhere in the park until we could be picked up. I didn't like him right off the bat, he was smarmy, and Britt thought he smelled like the homeless man on 5th street, but Lise liked the fact that he gave her food and something other than water to drink. We'd been foraging for a few days, made a tent out of our parachute and some branches and bark we'd gathered. We were hungry, but we had each other and we were getting by, and were close to our destination."

Rachel was confused, not understanding why the Cheerios meant so much that being rescued wasn't appealing. She'd heard Santana complain about Coach Sue plenty of times and she quit the team for glee, anyway, so she just didn't understand, and needed answers. "Why weren't you happy to get help?" she asked quietly, Santana turning her head to give her an amused look.

"Berry, if someone came up to you and told you that they'd make you a Broadway star if you made a sex tape with them, would you accept?" the cheerleader asked, her question bringing a deep blush to her cheeks. Truthfully, she'd probably take a minute or two to weigh the pros and cons, but a sex tape could ruin her chances at maintaining a presence on Broadway, and maintaining a respectful image. She'd say no, despite the temptation of fulfilling her ambition. She wanted Broadway badly, but she wouldn't quite stoop to that level to get there faster. "Look, we're both competitive, we both want to prove we can do what we want to on our own merits, and taking the easy way out's just not us. Besides, I couldn't lose my spot on the Cheerios, it'd be too risky. Anyway, this loser ranger led us through the forest and just as he was kind of copping a feel of Lise's ass, I spot a damn grizzly a few yards away, and it's walking right toward us."

Rachel gasped, both at the prompt shift in the story and the mix of emotions running across the cheerleader's face. "You know, until that point, I'd never actually thought hard about death, at least my own. My dad's a doctor and it kind of normalized me to it, hearing stories and shit, seeing weepy families in the waiting room and all. But in that second, I thought for sure, I was going to die, and I had so many regrets…I just wanted to go home, watch horror movies with Britt again, taste pizza again, sing and dance in glee again…and the thought of none of those things ever happening was just too much." Santana paused for nearly a minute before continuing, the girl seeming to get her emotions in check. Rachel had never seen the girl so honest and open before, and it was strange, but comforting to know there was a person underneath all that bitchiness. "I don't know how, but I alarmed them to the bear, and the next minute or two was just the scariest, strangest blur of events that I'd kind of rather forget. Staring down something…trying to scare something away that could so easily and effortlessly end all of our lives…Rachel, we were unarmed aside from the damn ranger… he'd confiscated my hatchet and was too freaked out to be able to load his rifle. We had no chance, but it was stupid enough to give us back something I'm pretty sure we all thought we'd lost the minute we laid eyes on it."

"It left you all alone?" Rachel asked, knowing that Bears weren't always entirely confrontational, but she had a hard time believing three cheerleaders and a park ranger scaring a huge grizzly bear off without weapons. Yet, proof of their survival walked right beside her.

"Eventually, for some damn reason. Britt cried all the way back, and I was really messed up for letting Britt get in that kind of danger. Took me a long time to recognize that it wasn't my fault, and that it was a damn stroke of stupid bad luck, but I eventually got there." The girl continued, placing a hand on Rachel's shoulder to hold her still for a moment. "For weeks, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't sleep, I could barely eat, and I was angry and miserable all the time, and one Sunday…my parents were gone and I decided to go down to the duck pond just after midnight and I just let it out. I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I just started screaming and yelling and…fuck, I don't know. It felt good, letting all that out. So…if you ever need to do anything like that, I'm cool with it, I get it…but just don't do it in my ear or anything, Berry, you get loud enough in glee as it is."

She couldn't help but just stare as Santana turned her focus back to the road ahead of them; Rachel felt that torrent of emotion thrashing in her mind, her body, and was glad that the girl beside her not only understood her, but validated her. And as much as she really hadn't expected it to, it helped. She knew that logically, the pothole was an accident, and the men in the truck would have seen them anyway, and that she couldn't have known it all would have happened when she dismissed Santana's plea to get gas while on the main highway. Her heart felt guilty still, but she was glad that in time, she might feel differently.

"Anyway, maybe it's best that we get off the road soon and walk by the edge of the forest instead. I'll be honest, we might not be safe out here anymore." Santana noted calmly, keeping her gaze ahead, while her hand gently rubbed Rachel's shoulder.

Immediately, Rachel tensed, eyes widening in fear of whatever Santana was considering. "Why wouldn't we be safe?"

"Look, I just sliced open some hick in his backyard, and he knows where we're headed. He might get some friends to patrol aimlessly around here and find us. We'd be safer if we were out of sight. Not saying it'll happen, but I'm saying it's a possibility. You know how prideful people can get…look at Finnocence." Santana spoke, Rachel unable to keep from giving a light smack to the cheerleader's arm over the remark.

"Santana! That's not nice at all!" she yelled out, but the cheerleader could only smirk knowingly in response, and eventually Rachel let out a sigh, nodding. "But you're right. He's a sore loser and overreacts whenever it happens, and…I suppose there's a chance that one of those men is as well."

"I mean, hey, they weren't aware of my badass rep, otherwise they probably wouldn't have done shit, but they did…and they got humiliated by a seventeen year old girl that was a half foot smaller and maybe a hundred pounds lighter than them." The cheerleader noted, grinning ear to ear in pride; she supposed that if she had to be stuck with anyone from glee out there in the middle of nowhere, Santana Lopez would probably be in her top three. "Anyway, I know we've got a long way to walk still, Berry, and your tiny little legs got some working to do. You okay to take your bag back now?"

Rachel nodded and grumpily slipped the heavy bag back on, having enjoyed the ten or so minutes she spent free of its weight. She watched as Santana moved down the slight decline and began walking toward the tree line, Rachel reluctantly following and frowning as the less than firm ground just made the backpack feel heavier. "Santana, are you sure we have to walk down here? Can't we go down here if we see someone coming?" she pleaded, her words bringing the cheerleader to a halt in front of her.

"Berry, I'm just following my gut here, and it's screaming for me to stay away from the road right now, and I don't want either of us to get in deeper than we already are, alright?" The girl spoke, Rachel rolling her eyes at yet another insinuation that the girl actually had a psychic Mexican third eye. Rachel knew that she herself was a tiny bit psychic, but that was only after detailed, extensive studying of such events when she made predictions, most being proven correct, or close to correct. She simply didn't have enough proof that Santana's gut, or third eye, was a good enough resource to ditch walking on solid ground for. "Look, in the choir room…that's your territory, that's where you're queen, that's where what you say goes because you're the best we've got, and every gleek knows it. You know more about music than any of us, including our vest addict of a teacher, and when shit hits the fan, we know we can turn to you, and you'll have like, a powerpoint detailing choreography for fifty songs, and a list of seventy-three solos you could sing, and one hundred eighty-two group numbers in total."

Rachel nodded slowly, feeling a little proud that Santana would say that, though confused that the girl never voiced that opinion in the choir room at all, leading her to believe she wasn't entirely sincere with her remark. How could she be, when she'd nearly killed her when she'd briefly helmed glee club earlier in the year?

Santana seemed to sense that suspicion and slowly walked up to her, surprisingly cupping Rachel's cheek in her hand. "I know I don't show it, but I trust the shit out of you when we need to throw the hammer down. Last year at sectionals? Fuck, people are quick to thank Finnept for 'saving the day', but we could have done it without him… Jewfro's a better dancer than he is at least. We would have been nothing without you, and you know that, alright? And if you repeat this to anyone, I'll not only deny it, I'll let Karofsky slushie you again or something." The girl continued, Rachel's eyes widening at the confession. Of course she knew that she was the key to victory, and it had hurt that Finn had gotten much of the credit, but they won, and ultimately that was all that mattered. It was nice, feeling appreciated. And hearing those last words made her grin happily, finally aware it was her who had called the slushie ceasefire on the glee club. Sure, it was broken the odd time, but Rachel hadn't had to bring nearly as many changes of clothes each week. "Anyway, what I'm saying is that people follow your lead in glee, because you know what you're doing when others don't. I've been hiking and camping and shit for most of my life, and I've been through Sue Sylvester's training programs. I led my group through nearly four days of survival training in a harder place than this, and I could have gone a lot longer. And I know that you have a relentlessly sunny disposition, but I know people better than you do, and I think there's a fifty-fifty chance of them coming back. I'm just asking that you follow my lead like everyone follows yours in glee. Trust me, Berry."

Rachel let out a sad sigh and nodded, knowing the girl had a point, and that out of the two of them, she was vastly more experienced. She just wished it didn't have to be so hard, and she wished she wasn't so tired. Offering a brave smile to Santana, one quickly returned by the cheerleader, she began walking again, the other girl close by her side.

* * *

Rachel checked her phone for the third time in the past hour and a half that they'd been walking. She'd grown used to the sweat glistening on her face, the soft sound of wet leaves and soil under her feet, the cool and gentle breeze through the trees around them; the only thing she wasn't used to was the full body ache she was feeling from all of the exercise. Her morning ritual of an hour on her elliptical hadn't prepared her for such an effort. Thankfully, Santana had offered on a number of occasions to give her a few more ten minute breaks, most of which she denied both out of a shameful amount of spite and embarrassment, but also because she knew the other girl was likely just as tired as she was. She felt guilty for the two extra times she'd taken her up on the offer, and had refused such help since.

At the sight of a bend in the road ahead, Rachel knew they were close, minutes away from the gas station, the building resting just behind the tree line in a carved out nook less than a mile away. The solitary, ancient sign just ahead, notifying what little traffic that passed through the road to its presence made her slightly giddy. It had been a confusing, scary, eventful evening, and while Rachel was happy for it to hopefully be at an end soon, it hadn't been all bad.

Santana had almost morphed into an entirely different person across the past hours, never straying more than a few feet from Rachel at any time since the attack, constantly bringing up strange anecdotes and amusing small talk, and occasionally breaking into an off-beat story about something ridiculous; on her last birthday, for instance, Brittany had saved up the money to have a gorilla-suit wearing a cappella group sing at her party, and how one had gotten so drunk, he nearly drowned in Santana's pool. Rachel had always wondered why Brittany had gone on about how monkeys couldn't swim that time in glee when Mr. Schuester had rapped "Brass Monkey", and now she had her satisfying and unsurprisingly humourous answer.

It wasn't as if Rachel trusted Santana completely or anything, or that she wasn't still fairly terrified of the girl; three years of living under the girl's reign of terror aren't so easily forgotten and put aside. The cheerleader was, after all, still carrying that bloody hatchet, and Rachel knew she wasn't vegan. She could, if push came to shove, end up being Santana's food source, if they ever reached the unfortunate scenario of starvation. That said, she was more than a little pleased that she was getting a watered down version of the 'Brittany treatment', if only because the other side of Santana intrigued her and kept her guessing. And while Rachel wasn't a gossip hound like Kurt or Mercedes, she was an incredibly curious person, as well as a terribly relentless and impatient one.

"All I'm saying, short stack, is that we hear you do Broadway and those big voices like Celine Dion all the freaking time. Branch out! You don't need to be Barbra, or do something super epic like emulate Freddy Curci every time you hold a microphone." She heard Santana ramble exasperatedly; Rachel had been pestering Santana to sing more songs from the Broadway catalogue in glee, and the girl seemed intent to turn it around on Rachel. "Look, you're a ridiculous singer, but don't be like Mercedes, and the way she wallows pitifully inside her Motown-diva wheelhouse. The only time I see you do anything different than your usual is when you're pissed off, and while it's hilarious to see you angry and vengeful, you don't need that to run with something fresh."

"Santana, I disagree with your assertion that my vocal efforts reside solely within my favoured genres, but I…do admit that I often go out of my comfort zone when I have been made uncomfortable, and I admittedly do not need such occasions to take risks. So, in the interest of fairness, I will try something more understated if you perform something from Wicked or RENT as well. Do we have a deal?" she asked the cheerleader, hopeful that the girl would eventually and logically fall in love with the world of musicals and Broadway as she herself did years ago. After all, the only reason for anyone to not cherish the glorious music of Barbra Streisand is due to ignorance from a lack of exposure. She was sure that the raven-haired girl would eventually get to that point. If it meant singing less Barbra or Celine in glee, and more Feist or whatnot, it was worth it.

"Fine, whatever. Just so long as I don't have to sing that 'Today 4 U' song. If I had to even hear it again, I'd probably need my stomach pumped after overdosing from pure rage, and my body naturally bringing my blood alcohol content to 2% in order to erase the memory forever." Santana noted intensely, seeming to grimace at the sheer thought of the song. Rachel's jaw dropped at the admission that she'd watched RENT, or at least heard its songs. Not once in her time in glee club had she ever heard Santana speak about musicals in a positive way at all, and now she couldn't help but wonder if the girl had a favourite one, or if she'd just been unlucky in her selections.

"Santana, I had no…" Rachel started, before she felt a finger on her lips and a hand on her wrist, pulling her just inside the tree line; Santana calmly guiding her down into a crouch behind a larger tree that might have been an aspen or an elm. Rachel hadn't ever been academically strong in geology, even if she had a soft spot for nature.

The cheerleader's eyes glared toward the road from their hiding place as the sound of engines became audible, Rachel's mind too occupied by the caramel-coloured hand busy absent-mindedly stroking up and down her arm; the gentle action and resulting sensation stilling any and all of Rachel's thoughts and words she'd once considered. Rachel knew the cheerleader had used touch to comfort her in the past hours, but it had all seemingly been to her own benefit, getting the self-proclaimed diva to feel good enough to continue on so they could get out of their situation. This gesture held no such purpose, from what she could understand, and that caused Rachel to freeze still from confusion. _This…admittedly feels very nice, but why would she…I mean, there's no way I would speak if we're in danger, and…I just don't understand…her hands are so soft…does she touch her friends like this? Does she touch Brittany like this?_ She mused, breaking away from her thoughts sharply at her train of thought detouring into the complicated maelstrom that was Santana and Brittany's friendship. _I need to stop thinking such unproductive thoughts that are of no concern to me, and would likely get me harangued by Santana in a heartbeat…_

Rachel sat still, trying to focus on the road as three sets of lights slowly approached. Santana had already stripped her backpack off and before Rachel could react, the girl had pulled hers off too, pushing it behind them, into a bush. "Get as low to the ground as you can, Rachel." Santana muttered, dropping to her stomach quickly, Rachel following suit, their bodies mostly hidden by the tree and the bush their lower halves were resting inside.

Her eyes traced the movement of the three slow-moving trucks, knowing that the vehicles were traveling much slower than one would expect them to on such a road. Despite it being a stereotype, it seemed fairly understood that in areas with a bit more of a carefree culture, and on roads as clearly un-policed as the one they'd been traveling, many drivers would be traveling close to two times the speed limit, to get to their destination quicker. Without the fear of traffic or justice, it simply made sense that many would break the state-designated speed limits, yet all three vehicles passed by slowly.

"Santana…what's going on?" she asked, her mind screaming the answer she really didn't want to hear. Her body was starting to shake again, and her breathing was becoming labored, despite the other girl's comforting affections.

Once the trucks had clearly gone out of their field of vision, Santana turned to her and pulled her to her knees and into a light embrace, the girl's nose tickling Rachel's ear as she felt the air thicken and her lungs shrink. She couldn't breathe and she was gasping desperately for air as Santana rubbed slow circles on her upper back, the cheerleader breathing slowly and deliberately against her. "Rachel, I need you to breathe for me. I need you to follow my lead, match my breathing, alright? In and out…in…and out…" Santana whispered calmly as Rachel focused as hard as she could on the girl's motions. It was so hard, but she could feel the cheerleader's body against hers, tactilely guiding her, teaching her how to breathe after her panic had stripped the knowledge away. "That's it, Rach, in and out, you're doing fantastic. You work your big diva lungs back to good and I promise I'll actually finish watching Yentl." The girl finished with an amused grin, once Rachel had gotten good enough control of her breathing. Reacting on impulse over the heresy of a Barbra film being shut off midway through, she willed herself out of the hug and lazily swung her left arm at Santana, smacking her awkwardly on the shoulder, causing the girl to wince slightly. She couldn't believe the cheerleader's gall for interrupting Barbra!

Rachel took a few moments, thankful Santana had immediately ignored her outburst and went back to ensuring her breathing was under control, using her hands to gesture the motions Rachel needed.

"Okay, so I take it that despite what you asked me, you know what's going on." The cheerleader's voice rang smoothly through the night air, taking on a soothing quality as Santana lightly held Rachel's shoulders, resting their foreheads together. Rachel just nodded, not feeling confident yet that she could speak actual words, knowing it would make the situation a little too real for her to handle quite yet. "So we have two options…well, more than that, but the rest kind of suck…we can camp out nearby and visit the gas-station this afternoon or evening, tomorrow, whenever you're comfortable…"

Rachel couldn't help but interrupt, fear forcing a barrage of words to spill out of her mouth before she could even recognize which thoughts they were borne from. "I can't go there, they could be waiting, they could own the place! It closed just before we ran into those men, and if they run it, we're going to be in so much trouble, I couldn't stand taking the risk, and I don't know what else to do, we were so close and I'm so sorry, I…" Once again, a soft index finger pressed to her lips, her eyes going cross-eyed in an instinctual attempt to see the digit that had interrupted her.

"It's okay, you're not comfortable with the gas station. Don't apologize for it, we'll just put some distance between the station and us, and then make way for the town tomorrow. That's a safer place to go right now, and we have the supplies to get us there. It'll just take a while, we'll probably be blazing a trail the whole way." Santana spoke slowly, in that same soft tone that helped push her worries just a little further into the background.

While the thought of venturing to a town was a lot more promising than an isolated gas station, Rachel had no idea where the nearest town was, and she was concerned about the conversion rate of 'a while' to actual hours. It would be disheartening to spend any more time out in the wild than needed, but she did have one bit of clarity she was holding to. She didn't feel safe by the road, and she knew Santana could get them both to safety, wherever that was. And with that clarity, she knew that they could miss the entire glee trip, something she'd been so excited about. Rachel had never been camping before in her life, and considering the short notice of it all, she only had time to get equipment and food ready for the glee adventure. The group had grown so close across the previous months, and she'd been looking forward to spending quality time with them. She felt tears once again trail down her cheeks as she mourned the loss of a wonderful opportunity, one replaced by the pain and fear of her current situation.

"I ju…just wanted to camp with the glee club…sing songs an…and…and bond." She babbled out, wiping away her tears, embarrassed about breaking down in front of the girl yet again. She'd gone through years of slushies and insults from Santana and the rest of the student population of McKinley, and very, very rarely did anyone see her cry over such actions. Yet there she was, already having lost count of the amount of times she'd cried that night. Uncharacteristically, she hadn't even started a tally.

"I know…I'm sorry." Santana spoke softly, casting her gaze downward for a reason Rachel couldn't quite understand, eventually just chalking it up to Santana being cryptic and walled off yet again.

Eventually, Rachel regained her composure and hesitantly leaned her forehead a little more against Santana, quickly gaining the cheerleader's attention. "There's nothing to be sorry for, I'm just pitying myself."

Her words were rewarded with a rare soft smile from the dark haired girl, who detached herself from Rachel and stood to her feet, offering her hand. "If we get on our way right now, I'll let you serenade me with a song sometime on the trip, or whatever."

Rachel's mouth felt a little dry as the words fell from Santana's lips; the mere thought of serenading the girl was so far out of the realm of possibility, or so she imagined it was until the word was spoken, whether in jest or sincerity she wasn't sure. Santana had been acting differently, more affectionate at the very least. She just knelt there, confused as she looked into the cheerleader's dark brown eyes for some hint on what was going through the girl's mind.

"Hey, you're still leaking, Berry." Santana noted with a smirk, using her thumb to gently wipe away tears Rachel hadn't realized were still slipping down her cheeks. She couldn't comprehend why Santana wasn't angry, furious even, that they were stuck together in the wild. Rachel knew she was worse than helpless in nature, and she'd just be a burden. Any added danger from locals or wildlife just added to her list of logical reasons why Santana Lopez should have been actively expressing the magnitude of how much she loathed Rachel, yet there she was; calm, collected and somewhat kind. She didn't, and couldn't, understand. As if the cheerleader could read her mind, as if her eyes were an open book to her thoughts, Santana gave her a knowing smile and gently lifted her to her feet.

"I told you last year that glee's the best part of my day and…even though we were going to Michigan, and I'd quickly go stir fucking crazy after being trapped in with all you psychos, I was kind of looking forward to the eventual chaos." The girl noted quietly, a small grin on her lips as she helped Rachel put her backpack on. "And yeah, sure, we're not with them, but what would a glee outing, however unofficial, be without a Rachel Berry solo?"

Rachel felt her cheeks blush from the compliment and the kind smile Santana was giving her as she shrugged her own backpack on. It had been a long night, and she was sure it wasn't over yet, but she was happy to know that perhaps the goals of the glee outing wouldn't be lost on either on them on their own journey.


	3. Chapter 3

Santana couldn't help but feel a little foolish and a lot paranoid, but it was a fact that she really didn't want anything to do with the people in those three trucks. It was also a fact that she thought she heard the barking of dogs, soon after their conversation, so she was moving as fast as she could through the untamed brush with Rachel right behind her, grasping her free hand as her hatchet-holding one knocked branches aside to clear the way.

It had been a terribly long night, and she was absolutely ready to flop onto the next comfortable looking patch of leaves and slip into a sleep coma for a week, but she knew that wasn't exactly an option, whether they were being followed or not. She had other responsibilities now.

One of which was making sure Rachel didn't go catatonic, run off like a terrified woodland creature, or have a life-ending panic attack. Santana had been doing her best to keep the girl as off-balance as she could, hoping that the less the girl could focus on her situation, the better. This meant she'd actually worked hard to talk with the tiny diva, distract her with stories, jokes and the odd touch. Which, to her surprise, wasn't all that fucking difficult or dreadful. She hadn't been one hundred percent successful in her endeavours, though, and while she wasn't really most people's first nominee for the role, she did try to comfort the girl with the fact that she'd been through something similar before, and that she'd be kept safe. Santana knew Rachel Berry was nothing if not thoroughly prepared for most occasions, but when she was caught off-guard in things that didn't involve music, it often seemed to take her a while to reboot and adapt. At least, from what Santana had witnessed in the past, she figured it was true. So her strategy of humour, distraction and support seemed like a good one, and it was initially, but as she pushed quickly through the dark, wet forest, she knew her ability to keep Rachel calm was weakening. _Though off-balance Berry has been pretty alright to deal with…way less ranting and rambling, and not nearly as overbearing…but she's been kind of really weepy, about as bad as when I've downed a half bottle of tequila, but not as bad as that one time when me and Britt saw that fucking car run over that family of ducks two years ago. She was inconsolable for like, two weeks. But Berry's been kinda rough too, I just hope it stops soon enough…_

Rachel had, of course, just ran closely behind her through the forest for about the first forty five minutes, but it was clear she had little gas left in her tank, and that meant Santana was going to have to make some difficult calls. She did NOT want to entertain the possibility of a piggyback ride. She hadn't even given one to Britt since freshman year, so there was no way Berry was getting all up on her, literally. Yet, they hadn't come across any decent spots to make camp, and they were both about as exhausted as Mercedes after 5 minutes of dance practice. Which was why she was holding Berry's hand and pulling her along; for guidance and support and whatever. Also didn't hurt that it brought back the ghosts of camaraderie she'd had the previous year with Britt and Lise, so no wonder she was feeling a little invigorated and excited despite the constant full body ache. Maybe she could chalk it up to adrenaline too. Either way, despite their situation and the pain coursing through her tired body, she wasn't having the absolute worst time as she pushed through the forest, considering her options.

The smaller girl's hand slipped from hers just as they neared a small pond, prompting Santana's body into action, her legs moving on their own; before she could think clearly, she was right in front of a downtrodden, grimy Rachel Berry, slipping the heavy backpack off of her shoulders and onto a nearby rock. She offered the diva an apologetic smile as the brunette sighed in relief, slumping down on a fallen tree trunk. _Well, here's as good a place as any…_ she thought, sliding her own backpack to the ground and quickly unzipping its many pockets, laying out her tarp as flat as she could manage before emptying the pack's contents onto it. Swapping her hatchet for a flashlight, she sorted through the items, blindly tossing Rachel a bottle of water and a bag of trail mix as she began deciding what could stay, and what would be left behind.

"Are we setting up camp here?" she heard Berry ask quietly, the girl's voice so weary and hopeful that she wished she could just put the girl to sleep right then and there. The knowledge that they still had some ways to go before she could set up camp only deepened the ache in her chest. Just because she was a bit of a masochist and a glutton for punishment didn't mean that she expected others to be.

"No, I'm just deciding what to keep and what to toss. We won't need all of this bulk for what we're planning, and we're mostly carrying identical sets, if the ginger cleaning fairie's OCD has anything to say about it." She noted calmly, putting a surprising six steel coffee travel mugs into the discard pile alongside some other relatively useless equipment. _Figures Schue would take a bunch of electronic shit on a camping trip. What the hell do I need a universal laptop charger for? Or walkie-talkies that don't work on trucker frequencies? Electric air pumps? Fuck…_

Santana started at the sound of Rachel springing to her feet, the cheerleader's ears focusing intently on their surrounding area for whatever tipped the diva off.

"Santana! You…you can't just…you can't throw away all of this equipment!" Rachel pleaded loudly, pointing a shaky, angry finger at her. "This is a wholesome forest, we can't litter like that." The girl finished sternly, crossing her arms with a huff, glaring down at her.

Santana just shook her head and let out an amused laugh, returning her focus back to her pile. "Look, we're both sore from the crash, and from all this craziness, and I don't want you to strain anything, short stack. So you're going to put this aside for now." She stated firmly in response, bringing her challenging gaze back up to the smaller girl. "So long as we keep the necessities, we should be fine. The weight we're lugging around is more important."

She watched as Rachel slowly, slightly unsteadily, moved forward. "Did you even listen to me?" the girl asked, more than a hint of frustration in her voice as she went to pull her own as-of-yet unopened backpack out of Santana's reach. The cheerleader quickly grabbed hold of the baggage and pulled it free of Rachel's grip.

"You can talk my ear off about it after, and I'll even donate some coin to the WWF or WSPCA, or Michigan parks or whatever you want. Maybe we can track this stuff down after we hit up the town, if it'll make you feel that much better. But we can't carry all of this the whole way, I'm sorry." Santana said, trying not to sound mean about it, as she knew wildlife preservation and environmentalism seemed to be pretty high up on Rachel's political issue list. The girl gave a huff and averted her gaze off toward the pond, clearly upset about Santana's decision. Deciding to be slightly diplomatic, she temporarily abandoned her sorting spree and moved over to Rachel, lightly taking hold of the girl's chin and angling it toward her own face. She knew that each time she touched the small diva in any way that was nearly intimate, it flustered the girl, which was something she found both fortunate, but also slightly depressing. She liked that she was able to keep the girl out of her comfort zone, solidifying her own leadership position within the duo, but she couldn't help but think that the girl should be used to that kind of thing. She was well aware of Rachel's on again off again relationship with Finn, at the very least, and couldn't imagine the idiotic puffball of a boy not at the very least being gentle in some way with Berry. Not that she was comparing herself and her current role to Finn's previous one. There was no way in hell that she'd ever be into Rachel goddamn Berry. She just figured that even if she maybe kind of hated the diva, the girl was bound to be famous, and did deserve some nice things in life.

"Look, Rachel, my dad's a doctor. And every year, he deals with dozens of people who get in car accidents, and a lot of them feel their worst the next day, because it takes the body a while to register what damage was done. I just…I just don't want you to be overworked any more than you need to be, because I know toomorrow morning's going to be hell, alright? We can't function like that." She explained, hoping it would get through to the stubborn vegan. The girl, however, seemed intent on ignoring her, and went to duck her head, forcing Santana to apply a little more resistance, coaxing the girl's attention back. If there were two things that she knew the diva was, it was that she was a good actress and that she was empathetic enough to spot a lie eighty-percent of the time, so she figured that just letting out a bit of truth would be fine, so long as it was gift wrapped in a big, blazing warning label. "Look…fuck, if you tell anyone, I'll deny it, but I don't want you to get hurt, or uncomfortable or worried, alright?"

She watched Rachel's mouth gape open at her while the girl's dark brown eyes, slightly lidded from exhaustion, stared at her questioningly. Uncomfortable under the smaller girl's gaze, she let go of Rachel's chin and rubbed at the back of her own neck, letting out a nervous laugh, not used to shooting straight about topics like that with anyone but Britt or Quinn. "Hey, I'm just saying, you're not going to be able to pull off some complex tap-dancing jazz routine anytime soon if you don't give your body a break, and lord knows your woodland creature relatives out here could use a show to liven things up. Not their fault they're stuck in Michigan."

Santana smiled internally as she spotted a hint of an upward curl on the girl's lips, followed by a relieving tired sigh, signaling she'd made her point. "I'm just…I'm trying to hold onto some form of normalcy, Santana. These past few hours have been so far from my normal life that it's dizzying just to comprehend a fraction of it all."

"I get it, it's a big shock. But…glee club's a family right? I mean, it's a big, grumpy, incestuous, unstable family…but it's a family. And we all get our occasional moments of bonding over tribute weeks, or high school drama, or Finnept's suspiciously custard-filled nipples, or whatever, right? And family looks after each other right?" Santana asked, adding a bit of snark to try and make the girl feel more at ease. Which, hell, was fine and dandy for Santana. Any time she could be snarky and it be welcomed, she was on cloud nine. Rachel merely gave a small nod, appearing slightly unsure as to where her rant was going. Admittedly, she knew she should stop talking so much, she didn't want to catch permanent verbal diarrhea from Berry, but she needed to make a point that seemingly went over the diva's head. "And we're kind of bonding right? Like, through shared hardship and whatever."

Rachel paused for a few moments as Santana held her breath, hoping the diva was catching on. It was when that ghost of a smile turned into a small, shy one that she cheered internally. "So the only way to make this more normal is for you to go off on one of your long-winded, four paragraph long rants, and maybe sing a solo."

At that, the girl swatted playfully at her, neither of them seeming to have the energy to do anything but lethargic movements. "Just…can I close my eyes while you get this over with?" the smaller girl asked as she turned away and covered her eyes, drawing an unnecessary nod from Santana. She'd hoped that Rachel would be able to help, but she likely wouldn't be as fast at the process anyway.

"Sure thing, short stack." Santana called out to the girl as she worked through both bags as fast as possible. She'd whittled both down to the necessities and the odd luxury, loading her own bag up slightly heavier than Rachel's. She'd done long hikes with full backpacks in the dead of winter before, back when Coach Sue was convinced they'd have to perform in blizzard conditions the previous year. It didn't matter that she was worried about a blizzard during nationals, and that it was a stupid fear to have, but she supposed Coach had her reasons, and no one was grievously wounded in the process.

Satisfied with her packing job, she slipped on her much lighter pack after hiding all the excess equipment in a bush, and went over to the tree where Rachel had taken up residence, offering her hand to the smaller, sitting girl.

Rachel just looked up at her with big, pleading doe eyes that just didn't seem entirely fair, silently begging Santana to make camp there. It was an alluring option for a few moments, before her logical side kicked in and sadly shook her head, knowing it would be a terrible place to make camp, and they'd hate themselves in the morning for it if they remained. "Just a while longer, Rach. I promise."

* * *

Rachel was certain she'd never been so tired in her life, and she'd gladly delay her 2nd Tony award by a year if it meant that she'd never have to feel so sore and exhausted in her life. She was pretty sure that everything in her body was aching terribly, and that it was only by sheer willpower for her future on Broadway that she managed to make it the final leg of their trek. Santana had dragged her along for what seemed like hours, even with the reduced weight; something she felt terribly guilty about, but considering Santana was the one who did the dirty work, she'd decided to give the girl a bit of a cold shoulder. "I don't see why we couldn't have camped at that pond. No, the great Indiana Lopez had to keep up her death march..." Rachel muttered as she prepared the sleeping arrangements inside of their tiny little tent, letting out a tired sigh. "At the very least, this event will likely be a popular chapter of my memoirs. Always look for the silver lining, Rachel."

In truth, while she did hold something of a grudge toward the cheerleader for making her walk even further, she did appreciate that the girl singlehandedly cleared the area with her hatchet and set up camp while Rachel was allowed to rest nearby. She had at least offered that kindness, so Rachel couldn't loathe her too tremendously, even if her body groaned at any slight movement. She let the cheerleader deal with making sure their little secret campground hidden behind a bevy of bushes and a rock wall was properly assembled and tied down while she finished her work; the tent wasn't very wide, so the both of their sleeping bags were as far apart as possible, yet just a few inches apart. Rachel slipped silently into her bag and rolled up an extra blanket; she'd always been something of an awkward sleeper, and often found herself near the foot of her bed, head on her mattress, arms clutching her pillow. Being somewhat swaddled in a sleeping bag, she knew it would be impossible, but hoped that holding something would help her sleep easier, given her circumstances. Her body was entirely ready for sleep, desperate for it even. Her mind, though, was a different story altogether.

She couldn't help but replay the entire evening in her mind, now that she'd had time to lay there and just think, and she felt the growing bubble of stress and fear building inside of her yet again. _I'm in the middle of a forest with a girl who probably hates me, and who had tormented me, and we're running from some potentially homicidal, belligerent locals! This is probably some plot commonly found within the horror film genre, and not only that, I have bears and wolves and maybe snakes and poisonous insects so worry about! This is an absolute disaster, and we're so far from home and glee, and there's no clear escape…I need to escape, I need…_

Her hurried, frantic thoughts were interrupted by Santana, crouching as she moved into their tent. Rachel turned away, trying not to pay the girl any attention as the cheerleader took off her boots and jacket, pushing them to the foot of her sleeping area.

"I'm sorry, I just had to do some last minute checks, to make sure everything's perfectly clear." Santana noted with a yawn, Rachel listening to the girl zip herself into her own sleeping bag before turning the lantern off and casting the both of them into darkness. Rachel's eyes immediately widened in fear as she clutched the hem of her sleeping bag and balled up blanket tightly out of instinct, her ears intent on listening for any signs of a ravenous, teenage-girl-eating bear. With how her night had gotten progressively worse, it only made sense for them to be attacked in the night by a ferocious beast; Rachel was a vegan, but it didn't mean she loved all of nature's creatures. She just had moral and ethical positions against the need to eat animals, and wished that bears would offer the same courtesy in kind.

Try as she might, Rachel laid there for close to ten minutes, nothing but bears of all kinds on her mind. She wondered what kinds of bears were around their area, and why she hadn't done proper research beforehand. She hoped there weren't any kodiak bears, or grizzlies, as they frightened her the most. After minutes of dangerous, carnivorous animals haunting her imagination, she couldn't help but break her temporary vow of silence with the cheerleader.

"Santana?" she called out quietly, earning a grumble that sounded as if the other girl was having close to as much difficulty as she was in her sleep-based endeavours. "What happens if animals find us?"

The tent was silent for a short while, aside from the slight sound of wind through the trees outside, and the sound of the night-time insect population. Eventually, she heard the other girl turn over, or at least shift substantially, in her sleeping bag, the lantern flicking on to a low light setting that eased Rachel's worries slightly by itself. "Are you that worried about it?"

The question from the cheerleader was simple, and her answer was incredibly simple, it being a resoundingly obvious 'yes'. But ultimately, it was more than that. She didn't want to be vulnerable anymore; she was used to being a fortress at school and around town, only letting her guard down in her home. However, out there in the wilderness, there was too much danger, too many new experiences and unknowns for her to not be entirely rattled and panic-stricken at the thought of falling asleep and being easy prey for whatever or whoever found them. She wasn't sure she'd be able to sleep, with those thoughts filtering through her mind. "I…I'm just scared, I guess. Sorry for bothering you Santana, go back to sleep." She noted quietly, wishing she could be as composed as Santana. The girl didn't seem to show any fear or stress through the night, meanwhile she was panicking and floundering at every opportunity. It was tiresome.

A few moments later, she heard another shift beside her, and then a slow sound of a zipper, the cheerleader moving quietly within the tent, piquing Rachel's interest slightly. As she peeked her head over her shoulder, she could make out Santana leaning up against her rolled up sleeping bag, using a match to light a torch before placing it in a small holster just outside the entrance of the tent.

It took her mind a few seconds to catch up to the quick shift in situation, but even with it caught up, she didn't understand. "What are you doing, Santana?" she asked softly, hoping the torch wouldn't draw any unwanted attention from large, beastly woodland creatures.

"I'm on watch duty." The girl noted nonchalantly, Rachel's jaw dropping at the admission. She'd merely made mention that she was scared of the potential local wildlife, something she had no knowledge about local prevalence to justify her fears, and the cheerleader had simply stopped trying to sleep, and instead started holding a watch. _What is going on?_ "Look, it's no biggie, just go back to sleep. I slept in today until like, mid-afternoon, so I can go a while longer without sleep. You, though, have that freakishly early morning routine, so you need it right now. Just maybe, if I feel confident we're still in the clear when morning comes, maybe you can sit watch while I take a quick nap for an hour or two."

Rachel felt herself shaking her head before she even finished hearing the girl's words. "Santana…I may be scared, but we both need sleep, and I will not allow you to only have one or two hours of sleep tomorrow." She insisted, earning herself a cocked eyebrow from Santana as well as an amused smirk, both of which she was still intimidated by, but also growing slightly more comfortable with.

"It's pretty clear that if I don't stand watch, neither of us will sleep. You'll be too scared, and I won't be able to sleep knowing you'll be a zombie tomorrow, and that I could have done something to keep that from happening. I can't carry both bags AND you at the same time, you know…at least, not with me covering any real distance." Santana added, Rachel's mind going over the girl's word choice in spots; she wasn't sure if she was reading into things, but it seemed that the girl might not entirely hate her. Santana seemed to be worrying about her to a considerably larger degree than she'd expected.

"But you'll be so tired." Rachel whined, wanting to spare the cheerleader the trouble as she wished that they could both be at home and away from their stupid campsite.

She watched Santana shrug her left shoulder as she pondered for a moment. "Eh, cranky Santana is about the same as normal Santana, really. So nothing special there. No worries."

Rachel wasn't entirely sure, though, WHAT normal Santana was anymore. She'd initially thought she knew, from all her time in McKinley and glee, but in the past few hours she'd seen a nicer side, a different side of her that was almost always hidden away, only basically owned by Brittany when the blonde needed it _. She's spent most of the night dogging me to keep going, but…she's just trying to motivate me, right? Keep my body from locking up? She's been putting my needs in front of hers all night long and I just…this can't be an elaborate prank…but…is she sincere? She's been making my mind go away from all of tonight's crap, and she's tried to make me…wait…she said she didn't like me hurt or worried, right? I think I remember that…her eyes were just so expressive right then…_

Rachel's thoughts were once again interrupted by the cheerleader, who rolled her over gently in the sleeping bag, using a pair of soft digits to brush a few loose strands from her face.

"Sleep, Rach. You're safe, just sleep." She heard the girl whisper softly in her ear, and she decided she could trust the girl enough to comply. She'd just have to wait until morning to figure out if giving her trust to Santana was worth it.

* * *

The warm glow of dawn peeked through the forest around Santana as she sat idly by her small campfire, watching another day begin anew. She wasn't exactly a morning person; if she had her way, school would start closer to noon so that she could sleep in and wake to the mid-day sun overhead, but she couldn't help but enjoy the sight of the odd sunrise. It was a rare sight for her, so she took in as much of it as possible, even if she would prefer to sleep. In truth, there weren't very many things that could keep Santana from her precious sleep, and she figured she'd definitely need a nap if she were to make it through the rest of the day. With the sky as blood red as it was, she knew there would be a storm later in the day, and sleeping in the wild during a rainstorm was never very pleasant. Trying while her body ached like seven hells would just make it more difficult, so she was glad Rachel would be waking soon enough. It was common knowledge that the girl woke at six every morning, so she figured that even without an alarm, her body would be enough, given its established circadian rhythm.

What she wasn't sure about was whether Rachel was a morning person or not, though given the girl's incessantly chipper attitude on most days, she felt it was healthy to guess she was. She just hoped they wouldn't be out in the wild for too many days, knowing that the girl's attitude would eventually rub her the wrong way; Santana was arguably one of the worst morning people in all of Lima, if not Ohio. _Especially if I haven't got a good night's sleep…which is why I was such a hardcore bitch head cheerleader last year…stupid 5AM practices…_

"Well, at least I spent all night keeping watch against the hordes of ferocious animals I'm sure only exist in Berry's imagination." She grumbled, feeling a little bad about it, knowing her morning moodiness and sleep-deprived crankiness was kicking in. No animals had come close to the tent at all through the night, though she was certain she spotted a few deer creeping through the woods. _And I'm sure some small woodland creatures not of the Rachel Berry variety scurried around too… I guess I should just be thankful that, despite the odds in our favour, nothing dangerous came near us. Though, maybe I could freak her out and say there was a bear, or a grue, or something, just lurking in the dark…I'm too tired to do this again this evening for her, though, so maybe not…_

That night, as Santana had initially gotten into her sleeping bag, it was almost as if she had this wonderfully slow spell being cast upon her, easing her aches and gradually lulling her into a peaceful sleep coma that she deserved. When Berry had spoken up, she'd been somewhat perturbed, but not entirely, considering she'd assumed she wouldn't have to leave her comfy sleeping bag for the rest of the night. Yet, when Santana had seen the diva's body shaking in her sleeping bag, and the hints of terror in her voice, she knew that she couldn't ignore the frustrating situation. Santana had to offer Rachel some reassurance that she'd live 'til morning, and that meant remaining a stable presence as a protector, a role she'd held for the latter half of the night since the crash. Santana, at the time, just hoped she wouldn't regret the decision too much, and that the girl would at least get a wonderful sleep to make up for the one she herself was missing out on. Not that she cared too much, but she didn't need both of them to be entirely hobbled, and she didn't want to carry Berry around all day, right?

Santana's initial concerns of the next day's labouring faded quickly as hours passed though, replaced by ones over the diva's wellbeing. As time passed, the girl kept slipping in and out of nightmares, her usually powerful, overbearing voice reduced to a barely audible whimper that wrenched at Santana's heart as the girl tossed and turned. She wasn't entirely sure when her stubborn side kicked the bucket, but eventually she'd shifted closer to the brunette, finding herself doing what she used to back when she was younger, sleeping over at Britt's with her and Quinn. The head cheerleader was an enigma to most people in McKinley, an ice queen who even her boyfriends didn't know and couldn't predict. To Santana though, she was still the artsy goofball who yelled at her for dog-earing the books she'd borrow from the blonde, who still keeps lemonade juice boxes hidden in her lockers, and who would get nightmares frequently, with the odd night terror popping up once or twice a year.

Britt had always slept like a rock, while Santana was a light sleeper, and would always promptly wake to find her friend in distress; years of practice in comforting her Captain had quickly returned freshly into Santana's mind as she tended to Rachel throughout the night. She'd absentmindedly stroke the girl's cheek when she'd toss and turn, softly sing her mother's Spanish lullabies when she'd whimper, and would gently hold her still the odd time Rachel would reach out and frown, returning to her post only when the girl had slipped back into a peaceful state again. The girl's fits never lasted all that long, and Santana was pleased to know Berry was a deep sleeper, her ministrations seemingly going unnoticed; not that it would be difficult to explain away any of them with logic, after all, it just would have been more awkward having to explain that she wasn't helping Rachel because she was in distress, but because she wanted an easier time the next morning, and because she reminded her of a friend, of course. It's not like she took any real joy or anything in specifically helping the diva out, she just missed that sort of connection. It had been a while since anyone but Britt had relied on her in any way, and that felt kind of good. _It's not like Berry's special for getting the patented Santana dream-weaver treatment…though I guess I wouldn't give it to Finn…or Puck, or Zizes…or Artie…or Sam, he drools too much…and I probably wouldn't help Chang Squared…or Kurt, though Blaine seems pretty chill enough, so maybe…I guess yeah, it'd just be Britt, Quinn, Berry and distantly maybe Warbler or Stutters…but still, not special or anything._ She mused as she stirred the package of vegan soup Rachel had packed, figuring the girl could use a warm meal after such a trying night, as their granola, trail mix and other dry foods weren't going anywhere.

Besides, campfires at night? Bad idea, given their circumstances, but daytime campfires were great ideas, especially in the morning. It gave Santana some well needed warmth on that cool morning, her tired body's temperature having dropped in anticipation of sleep long ago. Santana halted her stirring momentarily as a small whine sounded from within the tent, only to be followed up moments later by Rachel Berry crawling out of the tent and walking over toward the improvised log seating she'd set up that morning while the diva was asleep. _Yep…definitely a morning person…and she's not moving too stiffly, so I guess the rest really helped her out…_ she mused to herself as she eyed the girl over. She still looked a bit tired, and it was clear that some movements made her wince, but it was about as good as she had hoped for when she'd decided to take watch and let the girl sleep. Besides, her bedhead was about as funny and adorable as Quinn's usually was.

Santana offered the girl a smile and kept stirring, gesturing for Rachel to take a seat. "On a scale from zero to agony, how are you feeling this morning?" she asked with a smirk, returning her focus to the campfire. She knew the girl liked to talk, and was eager to see if Berry was still too off-balance to be her blabbermouth self, or if she felt comfortable enough to take the bait and speak about herself.

"I would rank it as a moderately uncomfortable condition, I suppose. It's a bit better than yesterday, thankfully. My head isn't pounding either…but I'm still really sore and achy, and I hope that with a bit of stretching, exercise, and rest, it'll wear off a little by the end of the day." Rachel spoke, her voice not exactly happy, but words were certainly spilling freely from her mouth, something Santana found some comfort in. Not that she liked Rachel's rants, it was just a sign of her feeling more normal, is all. It's not like she cared enough to cross the distance and try to make the girl's body feel better or anything, like with a massage or something. Even if she did feel a slight urge to. It would make the traveling easier.

Ultimately, she decided that she'd helped Berry enough, and her own tired, sore body wasn't going to remain awake much longer, so her strength would thus be saved for sleeping instead. Not that Rachel seemed to notice a hint of her concern, the girl's soft brown eyes too busy stealing greedy glances into the contents of the pot. Santana watched her, amused at how transparent the diva's hunger was, though when Rachel went to get up and return to the tent, she couldn't help but call out. "Where are you going?" she asked simply, her voice causing Rachel to flinch, apparently in surprise, before the girl turned around just before the tent's opening.

"To get some food of my own." Rachel noted quietly, ducking her head away, her brow furrowed and a look of annoyance spread across her features. Santana couldn't help but let out a laugh at the diva, though she supposed she could understand her.

"Rachel, I don't eat right before bed. This is your soup mix you packed, and I figured you could use a warm breakfast. I mean, I don't know how long those weird vegan homemade soup packs would last you before they went bad, so I just made one up for you." She noted with amusement both at the girl being annoyed that she'd supposedly decided to dig into the vegan's food supply, and at the growing blush on the girl's cheeks.

Rachel just nodded and sat back down, eying up the soup, her stomach's grumbling audible from Santana's seat, which meant that both Berry's personality and body were impatient when it came to things they wanted.

"So, I'm going to go take a short nap. I'm pretty sure we weren't followed and won't be, and we'll be good to leave camp around nine thirty or ten, which means I need to wake up at eight thirty or nine." She spoke, earning a relieved nod from the smaller girl. "So, to get us moving more quickly, I'm going to run you through clean-up, alright?"

"I'll agree only on the condition that sometime today, before we make camp again, you finish obtaining the same five and a half total hours of sleep that I managed to get. Which means you'll take a small nap sometime in the afternoon." Rachel spoke firmly, and Santana couldn't help but admire the girl's brass ovaries for demanding Santana motherfucking Lopez do as the smaller girl said. She was too tired though to get into a lengthy disagreement anyway, so she just nodded stiffly, shooting the girl a quick glare, before bringing her gaze back to the soup.

"Anyway, wake me up if you see or hear anything suspicious at all, and especially if you hear voices. We're well hidden, but I don't want us taking risks. Put out the camp fire when you're done with it, and disperse the evidence. I'll have a granola bar and some jerky when I get up, or something. It's light out, so just sit at the entrance of the tent and keep watch. Bring a blanket out with you, it's cool this morning." She listed off, as she got to her feet, handing Rachel the bowl and utensils she'd set aside for the girl.

Rachel decided at that moment, of all moments, to grab out at Santana's wrist, the sleepy girl pushing aside the temptation to close her eyes and fall asleep standing. "Thank you for what you did last night, Santana." The diva spoke quietly, offering a wide smile that Santana softly returned.

"Least I could do…anyway, get to eating, and don't forget what I told you. I'll see you in a bit, short stack." she said with a yawn, earning an absolutely ridiculous, yet slightly adorable salute from Rachel Berry. She couldn't help but laugh at the smaller girl a bit, before making her way into the tent and into her seductive, incredibly alluring sleeping bag. Santana's body quickly reacted to the welcome sign of rest and her mind promptly followed suit, sending her into a restful slumber.

* * *

Rachel lifted her head as she finished rolling up the tarp, somewhat disgruntled that her persistent shaking of it hadn't gotten much of the dirt off of it. She hadn't been tremendously pleased at the notion of packing it back up into one of their backpacks and soiling other supplies, so Santana had offered to attach it to the outside of hers with some bungee cords. She'd agreed to the girl's terms, though couldn't help but be entirely puzzled at the mostly trivial issue, and that the cheerleader had compromised so easily. Rachel, of course, had wanted to carry it until it could be washed, but Santana had made note that it would rain later anyway, so there would be little point.

Ultimately, it was much less of a compromise as an appeasement, in her eyes. It had been odd, but understandable that the other girl had coddled her the previous day; the night's events had shaken her and she'd found herself quite terrified and in need of some aid. With the both of them a few hours into the morning already, she'd had time to think over the previous twelve or so hours and all of the events that had led them to their current predicament. She still didn't feel entirely comfortable in their situation, considering her outright lack of experience in most related matters, but she had at least allowed the danger of the men from the night before to dissipate partially, and after an uneventful night, her fear of ruthless bear attacks had shrunk as well. Not to mention that her body was feeling a little better after stretching, and the both of them seemed in better spirits, all things considered.

She was just unnerved a bit, was all. Rachel wasn't used to the fairly uncharacteristic behavior from Santana, and had assumed it would have ended that morning, given she'd had enough time to process and rationalize their situation. It was hard enough to comprehend why Santana held watch all night for her, but preparing a warm breakfast for her, and appeasing her over trivial things just didn't seem in character, and Rachel was nothing if not curious.

"Hey, you ready to head out? I want to get as much distance covered today as we can before the storm hits. We might not be so lucky tomorrow with weather." Santana called out, slipping on her backpack, which was easily carrying three quarters of their equipment, not to mention the tent and tarp strapped to it. Rachel had tried complaining and pestering the girl to let her carry more, but the cheerleader wasn't having any of her rather valid and persistent protestations. _I'll simply wait until either our next break, or when she's appearing tired, to take the opportunity to carry more. I'm hardly an invalid, and I know I got much more sleep than she did…_ she thought to herself, knowing the day would be difficult on both of their weary bodies, though even harder on the cheerleader after the short nap. Rachel considered herself somewhat athletic due to her daily exercise regimen, and although she felt much better than the previous night, she was still sore and exhausted. She couldn't imagine how tired Santana was. She certainly wasn't surprised when the girl fell asleep practically immediately. Her vigilant watch while the cheerleader slept was entirely uneventful, and she felt fortunate that Santana didn't snore like she did.

Though, on nights when she was a little more restless, and her sleep wasn't quite as deep, it would generally only be intermittent snoring. _And that probably just annoyed Santana even more, not being able to ignore my snoring as a steady white noise in the background. I really should apologize sometime soon…and certainly thank her as well…_ she mused, thinking back to hazy memories of her steady supply of vague nightmares surrounding the previous night's incidents, and the highly dramatized imaginary events that perhaps could have taken place had they been more unlucky. However, one memory kept sifting back to the forefront; all of her dreams had taken place in their general forest area or the road they'd traveled, but one hazy memory was somewhere dark, where she couldn't see the trees or the sky. It had been disconcerting at first, but the soft lull of a song in a foreign language had put her at ease, and a simple, gentle touch had stripped her of the prior nightmares' tension.

She'd spent some time that morning by the campfire, thinking over that dream, rationalizing that it was her subconscious telling her that despite all the uncertainty and scary business they'd been involved in, she indeed was safe was the cheerleader by her side. _And it doesn't matter if it was just a dream…or more unlikely, some partial memory of last night in a half-conscious state, I suppose it fits…_ she thought as she gave a happy grin to the tired girl before her. She knew that she'd seen, and likely would continue to see the protective streak of Santana Lopez, even if it was in a different environment than she was used to seeing it. At school, it was fairly obvious now that the girl had a hand in calling off slushies meant for the glee club since regionals in their sophomore year, at least to a significant degree. Her verbal barbs and insults had also strayed from the venomous soul-crushing one-liners and rants to more playful jabs in recent months, which had made club meetings much less exhausting and hostile. Yet, in the wild, in a real-life-crisis, the girl just seemed to scale up her actions and behaviour to meet the context and situation they were in.

"Yes. Although we have many hours of daylight ahead of us, it is pertinent that we make effective use of them, and take well spaced out breaks accordingly." She responded with a wide grin, trying to show that she was feeling more like her usual self that day, something she hoped would relieve the cheerleader, if only to show she wasn't a fragile, broken mess of a girl like she'd been the previous night. In a way, she couldn't help but envy Brittany, who'd been protected by Santana fiercely for as long as she could remember. _Maybe that's why she's always so happy and carefree…she's free to do or say what she wishes and not worry about anyone lashing out…I can't imagine what having a friend like Santana would be like. I know there's more to her than the guard dog persona…and while I can't imagine she was at all genuine with her support and comfort last night, it did help me see that she's more than pent-up aggression and fangs. She's smart…she made sure I was focused more on her or anything else but what we were going through last night, when she could help it. And when she wasn't there to help at the end, she'd offered to stay up…and even if she didn't sincerely care about me, it did make me feel safer. Which I suppose she's done for me at school too, to a lesser degree, so it might not be entirely out of character…even if it feels like it…_ she noted internally, feeling a little confused still about the girl walking two or three paces ahead of her. Rachel still didn't know entirely what to make of Santana Lopez, but she did know that she was happy the girl was by her side instead of being stranded alone, or left with a useless partner like Kurt or Mercedes. After the previous night, she was convinced that if she were to be stuck in another similar situation, she'd want Santana, Brittany or Quinn with her, or Puck perhaps. While she felt bad that the girls had been subjected to Coach Sylvester's absurd antics and methods, she had to be thankful that they had been, knowing Santana had been her rock through it all so far, with much credit to the Cheerios coach. She just wished she wouldn't have to be for the whole rest of the way.

Feeling a spark of determination, Rachel felt her lips curl into a small, excited grin. _She might have been my rock so far, but I'm not an invalid, I'm not helpless! I…I can learn, I can help, and make things easier…I watched her disassemble the tent, so I could put that together if I needed to, even if took a few minutes longer…and I think I might be able to get a camp-fire going…maybe…_ she mused, smirking as she looked around her _. I'm not about to feel caged here. This is a prime learning experience! With an excellent, though perhaps reluctant, mentor! So I'll watch, I'll listen, and I'll do what she needs. I'll show her I'm not useless. If I can prove I can be of help…maybe she can rely on ME for once!_

With a vague plan in place, she allowed herself to split her focus between Santana, and on looking for learning opportunities. Which lasted all of five and a half minutes before her foot caught in a muddy section of ground, sending her falling face-first to the dirt.

_Well, everyone starts somewhere…_ she muttered internally as Santana strolled back to her fallen form with an amused smirk on her face, pulling her gently to her feet. While her plan had faltered upon take-off, she couldn't help but smile sheepishly and laugh along with the cheerleader as the other girl used a cloth to wipe her face clean. Between her own determination, and Santana lacking hostility, she knew she could do it. She just needed a little time and practice.


	4. Chapter 4

Santana peered up through the treetops at the mid-day sun; it was just past noon, they had made good ground toward the town, and she could tell they both were in a fairly good mood. She was pleased to know that the odds of them having been followed so deep into the forest were infinitesimal, relieving most of her tension completely, and Rachel seemed to be entirely relieved that they didn't run into a teenage-girl-eating grizzly during brunch hours. Not that they'd eaten since breakfast, but Santana just wanted to make good ground. She could see the cloud cover moving in from the horizon, and it wasn't light and fluffy. In truth, it was mostly very, very dark, but she hoped it would just skim them; she wasn't foolish or naïve enough to believe they could miss something like that, not with the air smelling like rain, and not with the wind blowing the clouds practically straight at them. They'd be camping early for the night, she just hoped the winds would stay weak and delay the inevitable a bit longer so they wouldn't have to march too hard the next day. She wasn't sure her body would be able to handle much of anything strenuous, and moving quickly through a forest after its floor's been reduced to mud was considered a bit more than strenuous. Cheer camps during the summer taught her that, and while she could jog at a steady pace for hours pretty easily in a mud pit when healthy, she knew at that current moment, she was anything but. _At least I don't have to worry about electrically charged barbed wire, or getting shot with tasers if I fall behind…though I will have to watch my pace for Rachel's sake. And I guess my own, too…_

Her body felt like it had been thoroughly whacked with a meat tenderizer mallet for twelve hours, and she was still seriously sleep deprived after her relatively short nap. It hadn't taken long for Berry's real smile to be replaced by her show smile; she was, after all, still very sore and bruised as well. That said, the girl seemed to be determined to be chipper as a damn squirrel finding a watershed of nuts, spending the whole morning humming along to the Wicked soundtrack. Yes, Santana Lopez knew the soundtrack. The Wizard of Oz had been one of her favourite films growing up, and she'd always wanted to know why the wicked witch of the west was such a downer; Wicked had given her a more compelling story, and it had quickly become one of her favourite novels. And, by that standard, her favourite play, though she had a soft spot for RENT and The Lion King. She was a kid once, and every kid loved The Lion King. It was, like, a goddamn rule or something.

Yet, while Rachel had no issues humming and murmuring along, and thanking her four times for lightening the load of her backpack the previous night, despite environmental concerns of course, Santana had remained mostly silent. Not that she would admit it, but it was nice just being around someone on the weekend for once, and Rachel was proving to be somewhat enjoyable, especially with many of the personality quirks that she'd found annoying either missing in action or subdued to a digestible level. Santana liked being out in the wild, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells, and she'd always found it better with someone by her side. When she was younger, it was her father, and when she got older, it was Britt, and sometimes Quinn. She knew she probably should have been curious or freaked out that Rachel Berry of all people managed to slip into that tiny roster of people she felt comfortable moving through the wild with, especially given the shorter girl's inexperience, but she couldn't will herself to be. _Fuck Britt and Quinn for making me lonely enough to stoop to this level…I shouldn't be okay with this, but…beh, whatever. We'll get to town by late Sunday, probably. Then I can go back to…well…whatever it is I can think of until summer break starts. Maybe._

The girl's presence was almost enough to distract her from the incessant growling of her stomach; a granola bar and three pieces of beef jerky wasn't exactly the best fuel for such a trip, and while she could have eaten more, she wanted to make sure that they could stretch their supplies well. She'd eat better when they could afford to establish another campfire, until then she'd just eat some more beef jerky or any of the other dry food that she knew wasn't vegan friendly. Santana knew her body could survive pretty easily without food, she'd come to the conclusion that Sue's master cleanse diet was specially designed to keep their bodies nourished while making them feel like they were starving. That way, if something ever happened to them, they'd be used to it. While her coach had never been entirely explicit about the ordeal, she'd heard rumours passed down that one of her cheerios about a decade ago had been imprisoned and water boarded by the Guatemalan special forces for a week. Apparently, the Cheerios used to go to a lot of 'international meets', not just for cheerleading, but also for gymnastics; she just couldn't imagine why a country like Guatemala would host such a 'meet', but after all that Sue had put her through, she had her suspicions about that too. The woman wasn't all that subtle about it. Either way, she knew her body could take the lack of food for a few days, she'd been used to the feeling for years. Rachel wasn't, so it only seemed humane to make sure the small diva was fed well and everything.

After a few minutes, she heard the girl's steady humming stop, immediately bringing her focus to her surroundings. Her eyes quickly scanned the brush around them for any movement or creature, and she felt a relieved sigh roll off her lips as she realized the smaller girl was just digging around in her backpack for something. Santana couldn't help but be amused, mentally cheering on the object that seemed to continually evade Rachel's grasp as the girl huffed and growled, eventually pulling out a granny smith apple. She watched the diva smile happily for a moment before taking an absolutely feral bite out of it, her eyes widening comically as her jaw practically unlatched to take in as much of the apple as possible, a sight Santana couldn't help but laugh at.

"Hungry, short stack?" she asked, propping herself up against a nearby tree.

Rachel merely nodded vigorously and rolled her eyes as she focused on taking another enormous bite. They had been walking for a bit, and her body was feeling a little sore, so she decided she'd do the both of them a favour. "Hey, we can take a break if you want. Easier to eat when you're not marching along with me."

Rachel just nodded and continued to greedily devour her apple while Santana used her knife to chip away at a piece of wood she'd found that morning. Every single hiking trip she'd gone on, at least ones which had any sort of forest along the way, she'd carved a souvenir to remember it by. Most often, she wouldn't finish the carving by the time she got home, but she would usually set time aside during the following days and finish it. Inspired by the diva's ravenous display of hunger, she began carving out the two-dimensional shape of an apple, deciding to do that with a hollowed out raspberry in the middle. Santana had always liked keeping the carvings rather organic, something to remind her of nature. She'd made a set of cherries for her first carving, a woodcut carving of a large alder, a grizzly, a woodcut carving with a river and a trout, a moose, a red crossbill, among a bevy of others. She hadn't ever really found a nice way to display them or anything, and instead just kept them in a chest in her room, but she liked the fact that there was a physical reminder to help jog her memory if it ever started to go.

"You know…" she heard Rachel start, just before the girl finished off her apple with one last bite and threw the core off further into the forest. "When this is all over, I'm taking you to Breadstix."

Santana couldn't help but lift her head from her carving, entirely confused by the words that spilled from the diva's mouth. She quickly schooled her expression into a less supremely confused one, but she still couldn't find the words to express her outright lack of understanding.

"Oh come on, don't look TOO excited, Santana. " Rachel continued, sarcastically, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest. Santana still couldn't really grasp the situation, and couldn't really stop staring at the girl, as if a proper answer would form on her forehead, or a thought bubble would appear above her to give her a clue. As far as she understood, there was really no reason for Rachel to take her to the Stix. _So why'd she offer, then? I mean…I know I have a bit of a scary rep there, and Britt sometimes likes timing the wait staff to see how long it takes for one of them to have an emotional breakdown, or how fast they can get the breadsticks out to me but…I don't think Rachel's really into that. And I mean, the place's vegan options kind of suck, there's only like, three dishes. She could much more easily go one town over, a fucking twenty minute drive, and go to that weird hipster 'garden of something or other' place that's like, a vegan paradise. Hell, she could go alone! Why ask me? Like…as a begrudging thanks? To make things even? As…as friends? I know she gets ridiculously optimistic at like, any show of freaking support, and…well, hrm. Pretty much the only people who have ever actually asked me out to Breadstix have been people I've had sex with, and well…I doubt THAT's on Berry's mind…I mean, I think I DID see her eying me up a bit today, but it was probably out of concern. I am a bit beat up right now, I probably look like a hot mess. Yeah, definitely not THAT…not that I'd be disappointed or whatever, she's Berry…_

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by a hand clasping itself on her shoulder, which her eyes darted to first, before meeting Rachel's smiling eyes. "I'm sorry to interrupt your apparent need for mental processing, Santana. I just assumed that since you hold a legendary lust for that restaurant's food, I figure that it would be fitting for a celebratory dinner after we complete my inaugural wilderness expedition." The girl spoke, smiling proudly, her eyes egging Santana on for some form of response.

The thought of celebrating Rachel's first trek through the wild hadn't registered in her mind, mostly because she felt that it didn't particularly have much to do with her, and thus it wouldn't make much sense for her to be involved in the celebration. However, it seemed the girl wanted her to give her the thumbs up so she just gave a small amused grin.

"I guess I will have won the prestigious 'Protect Rachel Berry from Wildlife Shenanigans' award. No harm in celebrating that too." She noted playfully before seeing a flicker of guilt cross the girl's face. One that she kind of really wished she wasn't the cause of, because she didn't want her to think that she was a burden or anything. Britt had been much harder to deal with in her first outing, and her little cousin Esme had pretty much had a non-stop panic attack. Of course, Santana hadn't known the young child had been terrified of snakes, and within a few minutes of starting the trip, a snake had crossed over the young girl's feet, leaving her to be incredibly paranoid for the rest of the day-long trip. She'd dealt with worse than Rachel, and honestly didn't mind doing the brunt of the work, so long as she had company. Hiking alone usually never amounted to much fun for her. "Hey, I'd love to go, Rachel." She added, putting a bit of emphasis on her third word, which seemed to make the girl in front of her feel better, if the blush on the diva's cheeks was any indication.

"Where's the 'if you tell anyone this, I'll deny it' remark to preface that?" Rachel asked, looking wary, but sounding hopeful. Santana just shrugged and pulled out a small strip of jerky.

"I'd honestly go to Breadstix with pretty much anyone, really. But you haven't been real unbearable so far or anything, which has been a pretty massive surprise." She noted with more than a little amusement, enjoying the opportunity to tease the diva. "Even the damn four hour car ride wasn't entirely horrific outside of the fact that the playlist was entirely composed of Barbra songs. And hey, you even made it pretty eventful, unceremoniously making your freaking Prius channel Michelle Kwan when you had it do a triple axel that Britt would have been totally proud of. It's been kind of alright so far by my standards, all things considered."

Santana smiled internally at the girl beaming in front of her who, now looking entirely tickled fucking pink from blushing, retreated to grab another apple.

"Hey, I know you're going to ride my ass about it, so while the weather's decent, I'm going to grab maybe an hour of sleep? So just relax, stick around here, and wake me up in an hour at most, alright?" she asked, earning a prompt nod from the smaller girl. Santana pocketed the carving into her backpack and used it as a pillow. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to sleep on, but she eventually succumbed to sleep.

* * *

Santana was awakened from her hazy dreams by a loud, high-pitched noise; it was the second familiar blood-curdling scream that shook herself from her stupor immediately as she got to her feet. Her hatchet somehow found its way into her hands as she burst through the brush toward the continued screams, one hand on her hatchet, the other on her sheathed hunting knife, knowing the knife was weighted better for throwing if she needed to make a precise throw. Images flashed through her mind of Rachel trapped under a bear, getting attacked by a territorial and hormonal deer, being assaulted by one of the damn rednecks she was nearly a hundred percent certain they'd lost, among other pretty much terrifying scenarios. Rachel may not have been her favourite person in the world, that title probably belonged to Britt still, but she did kind of like the girl. Besides, she was her teammate, and she'd made a promise, and Santana Lopez kept her fucking promises, so there was no way she was letting any harm come to the tiny diva without one hell of a fight.

When she broke through a rather thick wall of bushes, she came upon Rachel standing beside a small brook, screaming her fucking mind off. Once again she found herself scouring the area for signs of danger, but all she could spot was the girl, eyes shut, and just screaming the shit out of the forest. It was kind of infuriating enough to snap Santana away from her heart-pounding worry.

"Rachel, what the hell are you doing?!" she yelled out, managing to surprise the singer, who spun around, clutching her chest as if she had the fucking right to be surprised that her screaming had managed to catch someone's attention.

"Santana…what's going on? I thought you were napping." The shocked girl said breathlessly; breathing heavy from surprise or from screaming so long, Santana wasn't entirely sure.

"And I thought you were being KILLED, Rachel!" she roared out, unable to censor herself due to her seething rage, her hands releasing their grip from her weapons so they could clench from the anger and adrenaline coursing through her body. "What the hell are YOU doing?!"

Rachel, for her part, looked entirely embarrassed, shrinking into herself as Santana stalked closer to her. She knew she was probably scaring the girl, but turnabout was fair play in that instance, she figured. "I…I was just doing like you…you said it helped you after…well…" the girl stammered out, the tears in the girl's eyes dousing much of Santana's fury almost immediately, especially as her mind became clear enough to gain some understanding.

"Fuck, Rachel, good on you for actually taking my advice, but you have to tell me that you're going to do that, or else I'll end up waking up thinking you're getting fucking butchered, okay? You sounded like you'd just heard Barbra Streisand had a fatal aneurysm." she gritted out, closing her eyes as she sighed, letting the rest of her anger go over the following seconds. "My head was a mess for a bit, and it wasn't fun, alright?"

Rachel wiped the tears pooling in her eyes, nodding sheepishly before freezing in place, every muscle halting in its place for a few moments before the diva looked up at her in wonder. "You were scared for me." The words were barely a whisper off the girl's tongue, but just loud enough for her to make out. Rachel turned away, seemingly mind-boggled, slowly strolling across the somewhat rocky area. "I scared Santana Lopez." The girl mumbled, a little louder, with a small grin on her face that instantly made Santana's blood boil.

"No, no... you don't get to fucking smile over this, short stack! This isn't fucking high school with stupid slushies, this is real life, in the damn bear-saturated wild, and I thought you were being killed! If you ever, EVER insinuate I lack the basic fucking humanity to want you alive, then you can go fuck yourself! I guarantee you that a minute ago, I was more freaked out than I've been since that damn grizzly incident last year, and that's not something to be fucking grinning about!" she ranted as she walked after the shorter girl, spinning the now scared girl around and getting directly nose to nose with her. "Last I checked, I'm the only one standing between you and whatever the hell we might run into, so you best get your shit together and pay attention, alright?" she growled, earning a quick nod of confirmation.

Santana marched over to her hatchet and retrieved it, gripping it confidently in her hands, before spinning around and tossing it hard at the tree a few inches to Rachel's left. The shorter girl winced, eyes only peeking open a few seconds afterward once she realized she hadn't been attacked, her chest heaving from panic. "I'm going to teach you how to do THAT, Berry, so that if you go and do stupid shit on your own, maybe you'll be able to do something other than bleed." Santana spoke calmly as she approached the heavily breathing girl. "And maybe then, you'll trust me enough to know I'm not a damn monster that would leave you to die out here."

The training wasn't all that hard, unsurprisingly. Santana took the rest of their break to teach Rachel the basics in gripping the hatchet, and what motions she had to make to ensure it flew straight and landed accurately. The rest of their short breaks consisted of taking a bite to eat before more practice. Santana had come to the realization that comparing it to dance choreography was a simple way to get Rachel to understand what to do, and the girl had quickly picked up on Santana's tips and tricks. Eventually, Rachel tried her hand at her own hatchet that had been packed away in her bag; it was one Schue had provided, and wasn't as nicely weighted as Santana's, but it served a purpose, and helped Rachel adapt her technique to a differently made item.

It had taken until midway through their third break of the day, likely close to seven in the evening, when Santana's rage had calmed to a simmering frustration, allowing her mind to focus on things other than navigating their way through the forest, and sternly training Rachel to throw a potentially deadly weapon. Feeling her stomach grumble, Santana guiltily grabbed another granola bar and quickly downed it, allowing herself a reflexive small smile at feeling the tiniest bit nourished.

"Santana…you're not eating much." She heard Rachel say from a few feet behind her, as the girl tossed her hatchet. It landed a few inches off her target, but she was admittedly getting better quite quickly. Rachel Berry was nothing if not fiercely determined.

"Your left foot was off, shift it back a half inch next time and keep working on adding more torque. You need to be able to throw accurately from standing, Rachel. You don't always get four or five steps to toss it." She answered, ignoring the mention of her lack of food intake, focusing instead on what the girl needed to do to improve her form. It was much easier than wondering why the diva didn't seem to trust her at all, despite her efforts.

"Oh…okay. I'll keep working on it. But you should eat more…I have a lot of spare trail mix." Rachel noted, walking up to the tree and grabbing her hatchet from where it was embedded in the bark.

"That food's vegan, so it's yours alone to eat." Santana said, shaking her head at the smaller girl as she went to pipe up again. "I'm fine. I'll eat something decent in the morning, so stop worrying, short stack."

Rachel nodded and offered a small smile, before returning to her training, taking Santana's advice and getting a half inch closer to her target. "When did you learn to do all of this?" the diva asked softly as she made yet another trip to grab her weapon.

The memory of the incident that spawned the training was nothing less than amusing, bringing a light laugh from Santana, which seemed to surprise Rachel, who just peered back at her in confusion. "Do you remember when Schue decided glee club needed some advertising after you guys shit the bed, doing 'Jump On It' for the school assembly?"

Rachel just shook her head, letting out a loud sigh. "Santana can you not use such crude, disgusting language around me? I already managed to bite my tongue after your plethora of expletives earlier, but I don't need to think about fecal matter on my pristine bed sheets and mattress. But yes, I remember the short-lived campaign he followed it up with."

"Well you should have seen Sue's face when she came in late that day and saw all the glee kids covered in zombie makeup." Santana said between laughs, grinning wildly at the memory of a crazed Sue Sylvester, and how she'd nearly ruptured a student's spleen when she ran down the hall away from the slow-moving gleeks. "She had no idea that 'zombie walks' existed, and was convinced at first that Schue's radioactive hair gel that she'd snuck into his home had managed to infect him, and that he'd transformed all the 'weak-minded glee kids'."

Rachel just stared at her in disbelief as Santana recalled how ludicrously serious her coach had been, and how many hours the team had had to put in until Sue was convinced that in the case of a zombie apocalypse, they all would survive long enough to win another nationals championship, even if it was by default through being the only full team left alive in the USA. "I…what?!" Rachel managed to stutter out, her face contorting in a mix of confusion and amusement.

"She literally kidnapped us that Friday during school, took us to some bunker out of state, and ran us through about a dozen seminars on combat training. I mean, we also got taught about zombies and surviving a zombie-related apocalyptic event, and were given some survival guide, but that was where I learned how to use the hatchet. We had a choice of weapons, but I'd used my baby before, and I didn't feel all that comfortable wielding some weird katana or medieval maul or whatever. We all got firearms training, and stick shift training in case we ever hijacked government vehicles, but when it came to close quarters, I got my hatchet. I knew how to throw it accurately, but the seminars made me better. It could sever the head of a zombie in a pinch, and it was lightweight and utilitarian." Santana explained, her smile fading slightly as she decided on what thought process to continue with, which seemed to alarm berry because the girl started cautiously walking in her direction with her big ol' concerned brown eyes and everything. "I'll be honest, yesterday…that was the first time I ever put that training to real use. I'd never actually been in a live situation like that before…I'm just glad it all came back to me naturally."

Rachel remained silent in front of her, before placing her hatchet down and surprising Santana with a hug. "You'll have to remind me to thank Sue when we get back." The girl mumbled into her shoulder. Santana figured it would likely be the only time Rachel would willingly speak to Coach Sylvester, but she knew that the circumstances they'd been thrown into warranted it.

"You won't be the only one."

* * *

The rain seemed to come out of nowhere. One moment, there were blue skies above them with some cloud cover, and the next, they were being pummeled by a torrential downpour. She felt fortunate to have Santana with her; the girl had helped her so much in the past hours, despite being admittedly thorny for much of the day. Rachel assumed that being tired, hungry and sore would do that, on top of her own accidental contributions to the girl's fury. She had been taught the finer points of throwing sharp objects, mainly hatchets; Santana wouldn't let her throw the hunting knife, though. Rachel understood that it was something of a family heirloom from her father, but she kind of really wanted to see how she would handle its balance and weight. _At least I have made progress in my plan to become useful to Santana on this trip…although once again, she's taking the brunt of the work._ Rachel mused in annoyance as she held the tarp over their heads.

Santana had smelled the rain coming, apparently, and had managed to get the tarp tied to the metal backpack frame for structure, and up and over both of their heads by the time that the rain hit. It made for an effective cover, even if the weight of the backpack was less efficiently balanced on her body than before with the metal supports. The only unfortunate thing was that they had been progressively moving further uphill, which meant that the rain was clearly hitting the person in the front. Rachel had tried to persuade Santana to switch spots, as with her shorter stature, she would be angling the tarp cover at a more effective angle to block rainfall on their ascent. The cheerleader, however, just shot her a glare and remained in her lead position.

Not that Rachel disliked being bone dry in the middle of a rainstorm, she enjoyed it. She just wished that for once, she could help Santana out and let her relax a little. The girl deserved a long restful night, and Rachel knew that for some unknown reason, her own burdens had been lightened by Santana wherever possible, and it had frustrated and aggravated her. Despite her gains, the cheerleader was still treating her as if she was helpless, and she didn't like that one bit. It didn't help that Rachel had to stew in that annoyance for a longer time than usual, as the rain and muddy ground had slowed their pace significantly in spots. Despite her determination to rough it out and prove herself helpful, nearly a half hour prior she'd requested they make camp, simply because their progress had been so slow.

Santana, of course, had made a biting remark about waking up in a marsh if they camped where Rachel requested, something she couldn't quite believe. Yet, seeing as she lacked the experience to prove her wrong, she bit her tongue, as the thought of waking up drenched was far from compelling. So, she'd continued on, convinced that she could make her legs walk a bit further. It was harder moving uphill, but she understood the reasoning, that water would be more prone to run downhill and would be less prone to pooling. It just made for a harder climb, and she couldn't help but be a little nervous that Santana would camp them on a ledge; Rachel wasn't entirely terrified of heights, she was just very much aware and fearful of the consequences of being near ledges with large drop offs.

Thankfully, Santana eventually came to a halt about ten minutes from where Rachel figured her breaking point was; she had to give the girl credit, she seemed to know just how hard she could be pushed, without causing any lasting damage. _I suppose that might be her Cheerio training and leadership showing…she's likely dealt with harder training programs than our current scenario, and has formulated an educated guess as to my stamina and physical ability after last night and most of today. Santana has always been rather perceptive…_ she thought to herself as she watched Santana turn to face her under the tarp.

"Just stay sheltered under here, I'll get camp set up." The cheerleader spoke firmly, her eyes challenging Rachel to protest, something her body may have been too tired to do, but not something her mind lacked the resources for.

"Santana, I can help. I want to help, so let me. For once." Rachel spoke, trying to put as much of her willpower behind it, but Santana just stared back at her in indifference. _She is so infuriating at times!_

"You can help by being dry under here so you won't make the inside of our tent look like a slip and slide when I finish." Santana mused openly, shrugging off her backpack and tossing it to Rachel, who caught it with her free hand. "I'm just making the best of a bad situation, I'm already wet as hell. And keep your mind out of the gutter on that one, Berry, I don't care how wanky that sounded."

Rachel couldn't help but blush as she held the extra bag. "What do you want me to do for now?"

Santana shrugged and looked at the surrounding area before turning her gaze back on Rachel. "I'll ask you for things here and there. Mostly tools and supplies. You help me that way, and if you're fast, this is all over with quickly, and we'll have more time to sleep." The girl noted, meeting Rachel's sad smile with a determined one of her own, before stepping out into the pouring rain. Rachel quickly compensated and shifted closer to the middle of their little tarp cover, shimmying around the camp site to a rock, where she could set up Santana's backpack for hasty tool retrieval.

"I wish the rain would stop." She mumbled, momentarily hating Mother Nature for burdening the both of them with even more hardship that she felt was entirely undeserved. It may have been the last weekend of May, but with the temperatures much cooler in the forest, the rain was a bit chillier than Rachel had hoped. Even with herself mostly dry, she was still freezing; she couldn't imagine how cold Santana was out there, rain erupting across her body. Rachel was just thankful that there wasn't a powerful wind blowing all that rain around, it was mostly coming down vertically. _Perhaps I'll buy her a celebratory warm blanket when we're back in Lima…I know it won't help NOW, but…I feel responsible, and I wish it could…_

The next thirty or so minutes were spent handing Santana tools and supplies to set up the ground tarp, the tent and making sure as little rain got into the tent as possible during its erection. She'd felt terribly guilty through it all, and it only worsened when she was ushered into the tent so that Santana could use the tarp they had used in order to further rainproof the roof of the tent. Carefully, Rachel removed her shoes and her wet socks, before crawling through the tent and getting their sleeping bags out, deciding all the extra blankets would be useful as well, on top of a towel for Santana to dry herself off with. She quickly arranged the tent with the supplies and waited eagerly for the cheerleader to finish her work.

A few minutes later, she spotted Santana near the entrance of the tent, perching herself on the lip of the tarp groundmat beneath the tent, apparently somewhat sheltered from above as well since Rachel couldn't see rain hitting the drenched girl's body anymore, despite hearing it pounding against the tarp above them. Not seeming to care about Rachel and her virginal eyes, which she had done her best to keep from explicit material throughout her years, Santana quickly stripped off all of her clothing.

Rachel watched in awe as each article was discarded onto a pile by the entrance, each soaked item exposing more of the girl than she'd ever expected. Every time an article hit the pile, Rachel was sure Santana would stop, but her top went, and then her jeans, and then her bra and underwear, until she was entirely nude, crawling through the entrance way toward her. As the girl got closer, the dim lighting from the lantern combined with the slickness of her body practically made her glow, as if the now kneeling cheerleader's body wasn't already a breathtaking work of art. Sweet Barbra, she was almost certain there was a glint in the girl's dark, nearly black orbs as they made eye contact, and a smirk rested on the girl's lips for quite a time until Rachel realized she was still staring at her, and still holding the towel she'd planned on giving Santana against her chest. To her credit, her heart did feel like it was about to beat out of her ribcage.

"You just gonna sit there and watch me air dry, Rachel, or do you plan on giving me a hand with all this?" Santana practically purred out the words, and Rachel was almost certain her mouth had never been dryer. Once she'd caught her breath and realized she hadn't died of embarrassment, she shakily stretched her hand out, offering the towel to the wet girl. Santana slowly leaned forward and reached out, her hand grazing Rachel's as she took the offering, eying the diva playfully as her smirk widened into a grin. "I asked for a hand, but I suppose a towel will do."

Deciding she'd been embarrassed far too many times in such a short span of time, and that her mind was in far too thick of a fog to operate anywhere near peak performance, she quickly averted her gaze and turned toward the opposite corner of the tent, trying not to listen to Santana patting herself dry. Trying to not imagine whatever it is she'd see if she were still staring, because if Rachel's mind had one thing going for it, it was that she was quite imaginative, something she usually valued. That night, however, she just wanted to ignore the images floating in her head that her mind was concocting. And as thunder rumbled in the sky above, she added that to her list as a top priority of things to entirely ignore. As Santana worked at drying herself off, Rachel could hear the thunderstorm getting ever closer, putting her on edge, her hair sticking up at the back of her neck and on her arms in accordance to one of the many issues she'd dealt with in her life.

Deciding to not embarrass herself any further, or even allow herself such an opportunity, she quickly slipped into her sleeping bag and faced away from where the other girl would be sleeping, hoping Santana would have selective amnesia for the past ten or so minutes. After a short while, she heard a soft sigh behind her, followed by the lantern flicking off.

"Do you need me to hold watch tonight?" she heard Santana ask quietly, lacking the tension and exasperation she'd assumed would taint such a question, given the girl's severe lack of rest. Deciding she'd made fool enough of herself that night, she simply pretended to be asleep, ignoring the cheerleader's words in hopes they could both finish their interactions for the night. The short gift of silence didn't last long, however, as another longer, more exasperated sigh sounded within the tent. "I know you're not asleep, because you're not snoring, so can you at least be your crazy polite self as usual and answer the question?"

Rachel frowned at the remark, wishing she was invisible because she was sure the blush in her cheeks was visible from outer space. It simply wasn't fair that she had such a strong tell for when she was sleeping. She just wanted to forget she'd ever stared at Santana; heck, she knew she had practically ogled the girl, which was entirely uncharacteristic behavior for her.

"It's okay, it's not a bad snore. It's soft, at least. Doesn't bother me like Mercedes' does." She heard Santana whisper from behind her, her words something of a relief, but she could never tell whether the girl was being sincere, or just manipulating her into providing and answer so they could both get to sleeping. Rachel tried to hide the fact that her body tensed again as thunder shook the skies around them yet again. "Do you need me to keep watch tonight?"

"I don't need you to, Santana." Rachel answered simply, hoping it would be enough to provide them both with quiet enough to get some well-deserved rest.

"But do you want me to, though?" the cheerleader pressed, and Rachel was thankful the girl knew the difference between both questions, and of how considerate Santana was being yet again. She just didn't understand her motives behind her kindness.

"No, I don't want you to. I feel safe here." She lied, knowing that with every roar of thunder, her fears kept creeping back. Even if she was truthful in that she felt safe with Santana, it didn't change the fact that she was growing increasingly terrified yet again, frustrating her to the point of tears as her body began shaking uncontrollably, no matter how she wished it to remain still. Rachel had never liked thunderstorms, and despite knowing it was entirely childish, she'd usually sleep with a night light on during them. Not that she was scared of the dark or anything of the sort, she simply wanted a reminder that the storm would eventually be over, and sunlight would return to take its place. It was her light at the end of the tunnel while she dealt with her phobia. Rachel desperately wanted to turn the lantern on, but knew that if she did, she'd only further humiliate herself in front of Santana, and provide her with potent ammunition for when they returned to classes. That, and she didn't want to rely on her yet again. She felt she could handle it on her own.

Yet, she couldn't help the sharp whimper that escaped her throat at the first crash of lightning. She hated the sounds she made, and how weak she felt. She knew her phobia was irrational, there was logically nothing to fear about thunderstorms, but her brain worked frustratingly on a plane far distanced from logic during such storms. At the second bright crash of lightning, Rachel just closed her eyes and covered her ears as best as she could with her hands, hoping to drown out all the noises in the world including her own. She just wanted some peace, some silence. She wanted desperately to sleep, and it remained just out of her reach.

She was just so tired, and the roar of thunder was nearly directly overhead, taunting her by bringing up the previous night's thoughts of wild animals, even a flashback to the strange wolverine-like creature during a thunderstorm in the Never-ending Story. Yes, Rachel watched movies that weren't musicals, especially when she was younger, and that beast had always scared the heck out of her.

Rachel was brought out of her frantic, worried thoughts by a touch on her shoulder, propelling her tense body to spin around and shift away immediately in terror. Yet, instead of an intruder, such as the wolverine-like creature, or perhaps the creature Jeff Goldblum turned into in The Fly, she was merely met with a deeply concerned looking Santana Lopez, who she couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at as the girl shuffled closer, pressing their sleeping bags together. She wasn't exactly sure what the cheerleader had planned, but she prayed it wouldn't be any further teasing. She was certain she just wouldn't be able to handle it without breaking down. It wasn't fair.

She watched cautiously as Santana's hand slowly reached out, tenderly cupping Rachel's cheek as if it had returned home to its favourite sanctuary after a long time away. Her eyes flickered back to Santana's, noticing the girl had gotten even closer, their faces only a few inches apart. "It's okay, you're safe. There's nothing to be afraid of."

Rachel's mind, however, was still whirling mach five with all sorts of possible and impossible terrifying outcomes and events that could occur. She was so distracted that she didn't notice Santana unzip both of their sleeping bags, only realizing moments later that Santana was spreading her own bag out like a bed sheet, before grabbing some extra blankets and resting them at her side.

She watched Santana rotate back toward her and pat the space beside her, as if it was a perfectly reasonable decision that Rachel could make. "Come here." Santana softly whispered after apparently deciding she hadn't taken the hint. She had. She just didn't understand why any of it was happening. It almost distracted her from the storm overhead. Almost.

Lightning bursting across the sky once again broke her body from the frozen state it had been in, now convulsing into shakes again as frustrated tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't want to be weak, she didn't want to cry anymore, she was too tired of being weak, being a burden, being controlled by her fears. It was only when two hands pulled her toward the improvised bed sheet that she managed to somewhat break out of her stupor enough to physically protest. Her arms strained against Santana's, and her exhausted legs kicked out a little, but her body was weak from the trek and her will was cracked from her emotional exhaustion, so eventually Santana gained the upper hand. Rachel felt Santana's body heat directly behind her as the girl's evidently naked form pressed into her, followed by the remaining sleeping bag being draped snugly over the both of them.

Rachel had to admit, it was nice to feel Santana's warmth, especially knowing the girl had seemingly rebounded from being freezing not too long ago. She even felt herself smile a little as the cheerleader's safe arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling their bodies even closer. It was comforting, so she tried not to concern herself with whatever aftermath there would be quite yet. That could wait for the morning, especially as she felt Santana's chin take residence on her shoulder, the girl's soft, hot breath easy to focus on instead of the thunder overhead. As lightning struck yet again, she felt the girl's legs wrap themselves around her own, and for a moment she wondered if Santana Lopez was a snake, or some sort of naga, but the fact that she wasn't so badly startled by the storm just furthered her opinion that what was happening was nice and soothing, and she'd just lay there and enjoy it.

"You're safe, Rachel. I have you." She heard the girl's words graze her neck, adding a pang of guilt for a moment, not enjoying the reminder that for the second straight night, she was abusing Santana's services in order to selfishly be comforted, despite being certain that it was likely annoying the girl.

"I'm so sorry, Santana." She whispered, her words as staggered and labored as her breathing was, her body still shaking slightly. "I don't want to be scared."

A soft kiss to the nape of her neck quieted her body's protests as tension seemed to flow out her pores and away from the both of them, her body practically melting against Santana from the show of affection. "Un elefante se balanceaba, sobre la tela de una araña, como veía que resistía, fue a llamar a otro elefante." Rachel focused intently on the softly sung Spanish song the other girl performed, enjoying the soothing smoky tone and the silly lyrics. Sure, she couldn't understand pretty much anything except that it was probably about elephants, but that was enough to ease the rest of her tension. So much so that the next lightning strike only caused her to wriggle closer to Santana, a happy sigh instinctively escaping her lips as Santana simply held onto her securely, her nose nuzzling Rachel's neck and shoulders.

As she felt sleep seeping into her mind, she allowed herself to question the situation she'd found herself in, and found herself enjoying. "Why?"

It was a simple question, met with another ghost of a kiss to her neck and what felt like a shaky breath that followed it. Even in her sleepy haze, she realized the answer may not be as simple as the question. Answers rarely were.

"Eres linda." She heard the girl mumble into her shoulder as her nose returned to nuzzling the area. Rachel wasn't exactly sure what was said, she didn't speak Spanish despite being in a Spanish class, but she could hear the nervousness in the girl's voice as she spoke.

"You don't have to do this. I'd understand if…if you stopped." Rachel yawned out, snuggling further into Santana.

"Quiero abrazarte." It was all the answer she received, and after a number of silent moments, she simply let it be, enjoying the warmth and comfort the girl was providing her. She liked how the nervousness was gone with the last remark, replaced by a soft, sweet tone that left her smiling dreamily in her half-awake state.

For the first night in years of enduring thunderstorms, Rachel Berry was able to rest.


	5. Chapter 5

It was damp and cloudy the next morning, the rain having ceased in the early morning light. Santana was thankful for that stroke of luck, because while the ground was still muddy and wet, it meant that it would at least be a step up from the hour and a half they'd spent marching in the rain the previous evening. Little pockets of blue sky just furthered her opinion that perhaps the day would just get better as it went on, an idea she was really hoping would come true. Not that she'd had a poor start to the morning, even if she was currently wringing out her clothes as best as she could by the fire. She knew she looked the part of a cave woman, with her hair probably all over the place, but she didn't quite mind, given that her hard work had meant only one of them had gotten sopping wet. It had been a cool rain, but she'd always been fairly hot blooded, and it hadn't taken long for her to warm up again once she'd gotten in the tent the previous night. Not that her sleeping bag hadn't accomplished that job alone; Rachel's blatant appreciation for her body hadn't made her stomach re-enact her ten year old self's gymnastic floor routine or anything. As if that would make any sense. It just felt good to be rid of the cold, wet clothes was all, and that's what warmed her up as she had crawled into the tent, not the other girl's possibly wanton gaze or anything. And Rachel's body certainly didn't contribute either. _Well, okay, maybe she was kind of warm too…_

They'd slept for much longer than she'd planned for, from approximately nine-thirty at night until about eight that morning, but it was worth it, with how her body felt. When she woke, it was as if her body's aching was reduced to fifty percent of what it was on Saturday. Of course, Rachel had been snuggled up with her face against her chest, having rolled around sometime in the night. It was a nice feeling, even a little bit stranger when she felt Rachel wake at six, only to just nestle further into her and fall back asleep. Considering the girl's supposed persistence in maintaining her morning ritual, she couldn't help but feel a little good about being a more attractive option than waking up bright and early to face the day. It was just nice to know that she'd calmed the girl down. She'd hated seeing her so freaked out, and she hated how it seemed that after every bit of positive progress in getting the girl comfortable, something had come along to disrupt it. She just hoped that Rachel would continue to trust her to try and help her through whatever came next.

Besides, it had been really great to just hold someone again; it had been months since Britt, even longer since Quinn, and combined with her recent bout of loneliness, she'd kind of missed the feeling. So it was nice to have that back, and Rachel was tiny and soft, so that was pretty cool too. Even if it wouldn't ever happen again. Not that she really wanted it to, but she wouldn't be against it happening, for certain. She just wanted to make sure the girl would keep up with her the next day; and maybe she wanted the girl to feel safe and happy too, but that's not entirely uncalled for or anything. Santana Lopez could be a nice person. Whatever. She just mostly didn't want to have to carry Rachel around the forest all day. Not that she'd actually considered that as a legitimate option or anything. Someone would have to be, like, super adorable for her to do that, and Rachel Berry wasn't. Probably. Her soft snoring had been kind of really cute, and the fact that the girl kind of mumble-sung parts of 'Don't Rain On My Parade' in her sleep might have been endearing, and she might have given the girl a goodnight kiss on the forehead after she'd fallen into a peaceful slumber, but it's not like she was THAT adorable or whatever. Santana Lopez wasn't a sap or a softie or anything. At all. She often made sure no one would even consider spouting off such false accusations. Not to steal words from Sue Sylvester's mouth, but no one had any proof, alright?

Santana decided to stop pondering whatever was going on with Berry, and instead focused on finishing building up a small campfire for the both of them, feeling they could use some quality food. Or, at least, a larger quantity of food. Rachel had one last vegetable soup packet left, and Santana was pretty sure it was still good, considering how cool the weather had been, so once the fire was going, she decided to heat it up for the diva. Santana wouldn't usually eat the same thing two days in a row, she liked keeping things interesting, but she had a feeling Rachel wouldn't mind. And it wasn't as if she was catering to the girl on hand and foot or anything by making her breakfast before her own, it was just that she was pretty sure Rachel wouldn't like animal by-product residue in her meal. There wasn't anything wrong with being considerate and wanting to avoid a possibly dangerous diva storm-out in the middle of the woods, right? Not that Santana didn't find veganism amusing, or that she hadn't likened Rachel to a rabbit at least four times since their trip began. The girl was fun to tease, after all, and some of the things the girl did that she used to find annoying were starting to be more amusing or endearing. It helped that she was starting to understand Rachel a bit better, as well, which had began filling out the two dimensional cutout of a persona she'd been used to seeing in glee club. Ultimately, she could probably see herself being friends with the girl. She was alright.

As she began to stir the soup, she could hear the shifting of their sleeping bags, signaling Berry was awake. Or, well, rolling in her sleep, but most likely awake. Briefly, she checked her phone, catching the time was exactly quarter after eight, meaning that Rachel had likely been awake for some time. Santana wouldn't blame the girl for feeling awkward about the previous night, and she knew Berry had a thing for mentally planning out powerpoint presentations and lists in her head on how to approach things, such as a morning encounter after an odd night.

Deciding to take the initiative, she looked over her shoulder and stared into the tent at the girl stretching within. "Hey, I hope you don't mind soup again for breakfast." She noted, before turning back to the pot in front of her.

Soon enough, she heard Rachel crawl out of the tent, followed by a fairly over-dramatic gasp. "Santana Lopez, put some clothes on this instant!" Rachel cried out, sending Santana into gales of laughter; she wasn't truly naked or anything. Well, she kind of was, but she'd wrapped herself in one of the extra blankets, so she was mostly covered up.

"Easy, short stack. My clothes are drying nearby, and I'm wearing a blanket, it's no biggie." Santana said playfully, chuckling at the other girl's reaction still.

"You have a spare change of clothes, there…there is no need to be so…so naked, Santana!" Rachel yelled, blushing so fiercely that Santana was pretty sure that the girl's head was about to burst.

"My spare's a set of shorts that almost show as much thigh as if I were nude, and a cheerios t-shirt, Berry. Unless you want me to wear my swimsuit? That's another option. And either way, my boots would still be waterlogged right now, so I'd still be waiting for my other clothes and stuff to dry." Santana explained with much amusement over how easy it was to embarrass Rachel. "And hey, I'm comfy like this, and I don't mind giving the little woodland creatures a show if they decide to take a peek."

Rachel simply averted her gaze from her and did one of her signature huff-and-pivot away maneuvers so Santana couldn't see how red her face was getting. Deciding she'd done enough teasing, and that Rachel had fulfilled her cuteness quota for the morning, she just turned back to the pot and stirred, occasionally flipping her clothes over around the campfire in order to try and speed up the drying process. It was a nice scene to take in, really; a small, warm campfire with the scent of rain mingling with the crackling scent of the flames, birds chirping away happily in the trees, the sun occasionally peeking through the cloud cover, little squirrels scurrying around in the distance across the forest floor. The girl perched beside her certainly didn't hurt either. She soaked in the ambiance and smiled, she was pretty sure nothing could damage her mood. At least, until the diva broke the silence, she was.

"So Santana…I, um…" Rachel started stammering out, until words seemed to fail her. Realizing the nervous girl could use some encouragement, she leaned into her and gave a gentle nudge with her shoulder, sending her a soft smile in hopes it'd get her talking. It was strange, if a few days ago someone had told Santana Lopez that one day, she'd actually want Rachel to talk to her, she'd probably throw that person off a bridge. Or maybe smother them with Lord Tubbington. Or use some of the vicious remarks she'd saved up in her little red book and go to town on tearing them apart. It was weird, but she understood that sometimes things change, and maybe it was for the better. Berry had been pretty alright to be around, and she'd kind of grown on Santana a bit. That wasn't something that happened often, which was pretty obvious due to the fact that she really only considered herself to have two friends, Quinn and Britt. It was nice for her first attempt in a long time to go as well as it had.

Eventually, Rachel took a steadying breath and did some mini meditation thing, before she turned to face her with these big pleading cocoa brown eyes that kind of emptied her mind just a little bit. "If…if you can help it, can you please not mention my phobia of thunderstorms to the school when we return?" Rachel asked at signature lightning speed, continuing her ramble before Santana could even get a word in edge-wise. She honestly had no plans to taunt Berry when they got back, unless she was in her crazy-diva mode during glee or whatever, but that would be justified. "I know you've probably had a horrible time so far, and that you must be terribly exhausted trying to keep me safe, but you don't need to do that anymore, I promise I won't burden you for the rest of the trip, I'll be fine, and when we get back it can just be business as usual."

Santana held the girl's gaze, not exactly sure what was going on in Berry's weird little head, and not really sure she liked what she was hearing. It was taking a little time to digest. "What…uh…exactly brought this on, Berry?" she asked, trying not to look or sound too entirely confused, but she was pretty certain she was failing at both.

"It's just…my car is ruined, my glee club bonding trip is ruined, my weekend is ruined, and I've exposed myself to you, so my newly improved reputation, as meager as it is, would just be the last straw, and I really don't want to go back to school knowing you'd freely use this new ammunition against me. Just please, when we get back, can we just act like this whole incident never happened? I think it would be for the best, and I will promise not to make your life more hellish and unbearable than it's already been so far this trip." Rachel ranted, her eyes pleading and hopeful, and her expression simply determined and desperate. It was all a bit too much for Santana to take, so she just handed the girl the pot and spoon before returning to the tent, feeling an uncomfortable pit forming in her stomach after hearing the girl's words.

"Leave the pot on the fire when you're done, I'm going to get my own food after." She called out, before curling up in her sleeping bag to think things over. In truth, she knew there wasn't much to think over at all. It was actually quite unsurprisingly simple, albeit a bit harsher than Santana really wanted to acknowledge. She knew why Rachel had said what she did; Santana had a reputation, and the two of them had a history of one-sided suffering, and that had made things complicated. A few hours of kindness couldn't exactly erase that, but having those hours ignored and twisted in a plea to allow Rachel to not worry about being further embarrassed was a difficult pill to swallow. Santana was under no illusion, she knew she'd been a heinous bitch to Berry; the girl had annoyed her from the start, and she'd never taken the time to get to really know her. Heck, she still didn't really know the girl all that well, but she understood her better, and apparently that meant a world of difference, seeing as how she had gotten pretty comfortable treating Rachel kind of like she would a friend. In truth, she kind of wanted more friends, and the diva was proving to be willing to put up with her bullshit at times, which was kind of huge. She'd been pretty decent all junior year, and the weekend they'd been sharing had only made her realize that Berry wasn't all that bad.

Because Santana Lopez kind of actually liked her. It took until that morning to more or less fully realize it, especially after the one-sided conversational smackdown Rachel had just handed out, but she did. And it was clear that Rachel wanted absolutely nothing to do with her, and even preferred her school persona to the other parts of herself she'd shown the singer. It was kind of a kick in the tits, it kind of really sucked to hear, and her morning was suddenly looking a lot worse. And almost just as quickly, she kind of really just wanted to get the hell out of that forest and away from everything.

* * *

Rachel was close to her breaking point, and it was only just two o'clock. Santana had been moving through the forest at a breakneck pace, which was already near impossible to deal with, but on top of that, the cheerleader would taunt her every time she fell behind. Which by Rachel's count, as she leaned up against a tree panting, desperate for air to reach her lungs, was now forty four times. On top of that, every time she tried to hum or softly sing a song in hopes of cheering herself up with the power of music, the other girl had angrily told her to shut up, often laced with a threat. And finally, the icing on the vegan raspberry swirl layer cake was that they hadn't taken any breaks since they left around nine. Her legs were on fire, her lungs felt like they were collapsing, and try as she might, she could not wrangle enough oxygen to feed her body. Stopping for food just seemed to be an impossible dream at that point, and it took all of her willpower to not strangle out a verse of 'I Dreamed a Dream', because while she was feeling dramatic, she did not feel particularly suicidal at that moment, and she was positive she wouldn't be able to do it justice anyway in her condition. Santana was standing a few feet away verbally brutalizing her she was certain, but she'd stopped listening at that point. Her heart was practically erupting out of her chest, and she knew she had to start moving again or she'd face the HBIC's wrath. It was only that day that she realized and felt wistfully fortunate that the cheerleader had been taking it easy on her Friday night and all Saturday. Despite her hazy recollection of the day's breakneck trek through the woods, she was fairly certain they'd made nearly as much distance in five hours as they did all Saturday, which was quite frightening. It was even more frightening to think that they had many more hours of daylight left; the only hope was that the town wasn't far off, and that she'd soon be rid of Santana.

Not that she hated the girl; she'd actually come to like what she called 'Civil Santana' or even 'Sweet Santana' that she'd been exposed to during the trip, but those two were gone in favour of the default 'Raging Bitch Santana' she'd known for years in high school. Rachel could hear sounds ahead of her as she staggered forward, trying to catch up to the cheerleader, only to soon find herself falling unceremoniously to the ground, a sharp pain tearing across her right leg as she slumped into the dirt.

"I'm just so tired." She breathed out to no one in particular, gazing down at the open wound on her leg; it wasn't large, but it hurt, and she really didn't want to be at Santana's mercy. Not today.

"Get up, time's wasting, Hobbit." The other girl growled out with a loud huff, standing still in a fury so evident that she could easily imagine Santana wreathed in flames.

Despite her exhaustion, she couldn't help but be angry at the girl's lack of compassion, especially since she now knew she was capable of it. Feeling that she was in the unenviable position of having to take her last stand, in a forest, in front of Santana, she knew she'd have to protect herself in any way she could, and all she had were her words at that point. It didn't appear to be promising in the least.

"I'm hurt, and I'm tired, Santana. Can we just take a break for a few minutes? I know you must be hungry." Rachel asked, trying to keep herself from sounding like she was begging or pleading, but her leg was hurting, and she really just wanted to take a nap or just rest for a while. Catch her breath, even.

"We're not taking a break! We're getting this shit over with as soon as possible so we can both forget it!" Santana spouted off as she fumed, fists clenched at her side, her knuckles visibly whiter. Rachel could hear the pure venom in the girl's words and couldn't fathom what had happened to piss her off so considerably. She kind of wished Brittany was there with her to calm Santana down, the blonde always seemed to know exactly what to do. At least the raven-haired girl wasn't looking at her.

"Why are you being so mean?!" she asked, regretting the words as they spilled out of her mouth. It was just a reflex, she knew she had no filter between her mind and her mouth, but it was rare that she'd ever pay for it. Looking at what she could see of Santana's furious scowl, she was pretty sure she'd earned herself a few more hours of the torturous pace through the forest.

Santana let out a hard laugh, shaking her head as she turned to face her, catching a brief flicker of some other emotion on the girl's face before the scowl returned in full force. "I'm not being fucking mean, I'm giving us what we both want!" the girl yelled out, her dark eyes still facing Rachel but never really making eye contact. Rachel found that fortunate, as she was sure she'd be engulfed in flames if it were to ever happen, so she silently thanked Santana for that pseudo-kindness.

"I just want a break! I want something to clean and bandage my leg! That's what I want Santana!" Rachel yelled back, not appreciating that she was in pain, while Santana held the first aid supplies in her backpack. She didn't want to even speak to the cheerleader, but she figured it had to happen anyway.

She watched as Santana angrily rifled through her backpack and roughly tossed her some alcohol wipes, bandages and medical tape, before leaning up against a nearby tree, incessantly tapping her foot against the ground. Rachel didn't quite appreciate how annoyed Santana looked at the prospect of having been the least bit decent to her, and after having to wince her way through cleaning and bandaging her wound, she couldn't help but snap at the girl. "This is all your fault!" she yelled out, tossing the small box of alcohol wipes at Santana, hitting her in the shoulder.

"What the fuck!" Santana yelled out at the box hit her, before a short wave of what looked to be hurt crossed the girl's face, shortly settling back into a menacing scowl afterward. Rachel wasn't sure what the girl had to be sad or upset about, she wasn't the one with a wounded leg, she wasn't the one unused to tromping through a muddy forest at a ludicrous pace for hours on end. It was doubtful the girl would regret her behavior, not with how she'd been all day long. Especially as Rachel watched the girl stalk closer, Santana's face morphing into an expression of fury she hadn't seen since the start of the year when the cheerleader attacked Quinn. If she weren't so sore and exhausted, she probably would have run away.

"If you hadn't gotten infected by that pyramid-nippled idiot's zombie-dancing disease, maybe you wouldn't have been so freaking clumsy! You should have seen that tree root coming a mile away, it's a perfect size for a hobbit hole…shame you got hurt excavating it, I don't blame you. You were so fucking excited about going home, you decided to give up and just make one here." Santana grit out exasperatedly, with that trademark HBIC menacing smirk plastered on her face as she slowly made her way closer. "But you know, I could have sworn you were telling me this morning that you could take care of yourself, yet…clearly you can't. Well, aren't you just _precious_ , Berry." Santana continued to stalk toward her; Rachel watching each step until she just couldn't anymore, too frustrated and tired to keep from pulling in her knees and burying her face into them. Santana was just so angry, and her leg hurt so much, and she just hated that she was so useless out there in the wild. As she sat there quietly, she thought of home, of Funny Girl, of Barbra, and how she just wanted to curl up in her bed and escape everything. Rachel was pretty sure Santana wouldn't actually do anything to her, but she was tired of walking, tired of being insulted, and tired of being a burden, and she just didn't have the energy to care enough to stare the other girl down. She just needed to rest.

She wasn't sure how long it had been when a frustrated sigh cut through the air around them, when Santana's knees hit the ground in front of her. Rachel wasn't sure what was going on; at least the girl hadn't lashed out at her or maimed her, but she didn't know what the unpredictable cheerleader would do next.

It was only when she felt a finger lightly tapping the top of her head that she reluctantly lifted it, spotting two hands in front of her face, one carrying a bottle of water, one carrying a peach and two pills.

"Painkillers… for your leg. And you're definitely hungry and thirsty. So just…yeah." She heard Santana speak, her voice quiet and surprisingly shy sounding. Rachel wasn't sure when the next flash of kindness would come from the girl, so she wasn't about to pass up the opportunity. After quickly downing the fruit, pills and half the bottle of water, Rachel finally braved a glance at the cheerleader, confused at how crestfallen the girl appeared to be.

"I'm not good at talking about shit like this, alright? Opening up and all that crap." The cheerleader spoke softly, looking away from Rachel, her hair masking some of her face, guarding her expression partially from the diva. "It sucked, you know, hearing you thinking that we'd go back to school and I'd taunt you about being scared of the dark, or animals, or storms or whatever. It sucked hearing you say that the whole trip was ruined for you, and that you thought I hated you. I…I only hated that you thought that would be 'normal' for me."

Rachel listened intently to the girl's words, her tone so vastly different than how she was mere minutes ago. As she listened to Santana list out things that she thought 'sucked', she realized quickly that she meant something a little different, something she wasn't quite sure she'd mentally nailed down yet. She didn't know why Santana was even speaking to her, but she just remained silent and decided to wait out the storm, so to speak.

"I meant what I said yesterday. You've been alright this weekend…better than that, even. I…I thought it was clear I was helping you because I WANTED to." Santana spoke, her soft delivery saturating with a surprising amount of emotion at the end, as the girl's hands at her sides clawed at the dirt beneath them. "I wanted to. I said so last night." She reiterated more softly, the last part earning Rachel's full attention and curiosity.

"When?" she asked, her voice strangled slightly by the confusion and potential impending guilt of having possibly missed some less-than-arbitrary cue along the way. It was a well known fact that Santana had a fiery temper, and had rage issues; it didn't take much to light a fire under the girl, and by the cheerleader's tone, it hadn't been a minor issue. There was no way the girl would be looking so vulnerable over something minor unless Rachel had turned into Brittany in the past few hours.

Santana was quiet for a few seconds, as she brushed the fallen locks of hair from her face, eyes still downcast. "When you asked me why I was helping last night…I said I wanted to."

Rachel thought back to the night, not recalling such a confession, though she was certain at the time that she wouldn't have believed it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure she'd entirely believe it now, but there wasn't much reason for Santana to be insincere in their current situation. "All I remember was that you said two things in Spanish that I didn't understand. Mr. Schuester is…a rather miserable Spanish teacher, after all."

She watched as Santana's eyes widened slightly, a pained, guilty look spreading across her face as Rachel's words seemed to sink in.

"I…I mean I couldn't have been sure you understood the words, I guess, but…I thought you understood what I meant after everything. Fuck, it's why I've been such a rageaholic bitch." Santana grumbled sadly, bowing her head and rubbing at her face a bit.

"I...don't understand at all, Santana." Rachel said, not sure what else she could say in her situation. She kind of understood she'd upset the girl to a degree, but there had to be more to it than a small miscommunication and her phrasing things rather bluntly when she spoke to Santana. After all, that girl was often viciously blunt at school, so she figured she'd be used to it.

Santana just moved from her kneeling position in front of her over to the rock Rachel had scraped her leg off of, slumping down against it, looking entirely nervous. "I…fuck, you know the drill about repeating any of this alright? But…you asked why I wanted to do…what I was doing…And I just, I didn't like seeing you all scared and shit. I wanted to hold you and make you feel better, alright? I wanted to. And…and I said you were kinda cute, alright?" Rachel felt herself blush yet again at the girl's entirely unexpected words, even though her brain was working double time to try and process what she'd just heard. Santana Lopez thought she was cute? What? Her mouth was so dry she felt reflexively forced to nervously down the rest of the bottle as Santana continued her ramble. "Because you are, and I promised you'd be safe and comfortable and crap. That's why I was so pissed off. You're like a mold or something, you've grown on me, and I kind of like you, and then you just go and shove it in my face all ruthless-like. It sucked. I was just trying to be nice to you for once in my damn life, to do what's right, get to know you and everything and make this trip worthwhile, and it all gets thrown back in my face… that I'm not _really_ who I've been around you this weekend. And here I am trying to make a new fucking friend and you can't wait to get away from me, just like everyone else. It just sucked hearing that no matter what I did, I was always just a cold-hearted manipulative bitch to you."

Rachel sat back on her heels as her throat swelled up with embarrassment. She knew that despite the girl's sometimes carefully chosen words, she'd hurt the cheerleader. While she had never ever thought it would have been possible, Santana had let her oblivious self past her castle defenses, and Rachel inadvertently set it all ablaze. "I…I didn't mean that."

"You did." Santana followed up immediately, her tone sharp, but not laced with anger; just an unforeseen amount of regret. "You know, despite everything, this weekend's been probably my best one in a while. It's fucked up. I thought this trip could be my ticket to actually branching out and not being so…I don't know, bitchy. So this shit happened and I figured I'd try get to know the girl behind the reindeer sweaters a little, that you'd be the easiest since you're so absurdly nice and forgiving and everything. I just didn't think at the start that I'd spend as much time with you as I have, but hey, whatever."

Rachel wasn't sure why Santana said she wasn't good with talking, but perhaps it was because she just wasn't used to it, and she'd just had enough of bottling it up. Rachel understood that feeling well, she could hardly go a few days without bursting into song; she figured it was the same way for Santana, except with emotions and feelings, but with a much longer half-life.

"Santana, I'm sorry I…" she started, but the girl lazily lifted a hand to halt her speech, and she complied out of courtesy. Santana seemed to need to clear the air, and she'd let her.

"No. Don't apologize. I was selfish, alright? I didn't want to get to know you because I was really interested, I wanted to because I was tired of being by myself sometimes, so I tried to take advantage of a horrible situation, and I'm glad I did because I kind of like you now. You're alright. But you obviously don't feel the same way, and you'd prefer we both forget this weekend, which is fine by me now that I've humiliated myself and run you into the ground and all. I'll go back to being a heinous bitch to you, except I actually know more about you so I'll feel even worse about it. And you…you can go back to being a freaking star and continue on your pursuit to believe I'm a heartless mannequin of a human being who'll be working the pole a half hour after I've graduated until my body's so ridden of STDs, so worn out from being used by the filthiest demographic of humanity, and so deservedly forgotten that I become a shining example to children everywhere on how two and a half fucking years of being mean can haunt you forever."

Rachel winced at the final string of words, knowing full well that those two and a half years hadn't been pleasant in the least, and that Santana needed to earn forgiveness for them, but the defeated tone the cheerleader spoke in was difficult to bear. She hadn't really meant it when she'd told Santana her only job would be working on a pole, she'd been furious at the time, but she didn't expect the hard, determined girl she'd spent the entire weekend with to simply give up. Even if Rachel, for her part, hadn't been as nice or forgiving as Santana had pegged her to be, apparently. Though it did make the gears in her head spin; she was so eager to forgive Finn through the years for anything he'd done to her, and she'd sought Quinn's friendship many times regardless of the pain and hurdles the blonde sent her way. Even Puck, despite being the first person to ever slushie her, was quickly forgiven, even if his reputation hadn't been forgotten. Jesse St. James had used her, humiliated her, and was horrible to her in her sophomore year, but when he returned to her later on, she welcomed him back with open arms, not even questioning his intentions. Why was she so resistant with Santana, who admittedly had a case of thorny verbal diarrhea in glee club at times, and who occasionally slushied her, but who otherwise had been mostly harmless? It wasn't a question Rachel could answer all that easily, honestly, especially knowing what the girl had done for her all weekend long.

"I just…I've been so confused." She spoke, letting out a sigh as she considered her words. "I thought you were being nice just to keep me from panicking and running off in a random direction to my doom, or to avoid a manslaughter charge. I had…grown to envy Brittany over the past day or two, seeing your protective, caring side... I just didn't think you could have possibly been genuine in how you were with me, even if I desperately wanted you to be…I don't exactly stack up to Brittany, you know."

That seemed to finally get enough of Santana's attention for her to swivel her head to face Rachel, her eyes slightly puffier than before as a sincerely befuddled expression contorted the cheerleader's face. "Why would you think that?" the girl asked simply, her voice hoarse now, whether from talking so much or from emotion, Rachel wasn't sure.

"Well, she's blonder than me, taller than me, prettier than me, she's a better dancer, probably funnier than me…" Rachel started listing off, not exactly certain why Santana needed her to spell it out. It was obvious why she would be nicer to Brittany than to her. Santana's small, barely audible nervous laughter halted her reasons, despite having a good seven or eight legitimate entries left to discuss.

"I DID say you were cute, alright?" the girl mentioned as she averted her gaze again. "And being tiny isn't a bad thing. You…you fit alright by me last night."

Rachel couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips at the sight of the strangely shy and nervous Santana sitting across from her, and what she was verbally dancing around. She didn't think she'd ever see the day when Santana Lopez was reduced to a reluctantly antsy, shy girl, but it was definitely something she'd likely remember for quite some time. And it went a long way to prove to Rachel that the girl was being entirely truthful. Even though she knew she shouldn't, she'd found herself feeling particularly suicidal again, and that meant taking a risk. "You liked being the big spoon." She noted playfully, entirely amused by the strange turn in the conversation, which definitely seemed for the better. It was almost as if their big blowout hadn't happened, that Santana's oddly emotional verbal explosion was history.

To her great surprise and amusement, Santana simply shrugged, her blush still visible despite her bowed head and darker skin. "Your words, not mine, Berry."

Deciding to see how far she could push the proverbial envelope, she scooted closer, ignoring the brief sensation of dulled pain. "You liked cuddling with me."

Again, Santana blushed harder, though the girl's devilish smirk made her feel like she'd maybe gone a little too far.

"And YOU like copping a feel of me in your sleep." Santana bit back playfully as Rachel brought a hand to her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp. She wasn't sure whether she could believe she did such an inappropriate thing, but with Santana having been naked, and knowing her own reputation as something of a cuddle monster, she simply couldn't flat out deny it. And that horrified her. "Hey, I can't blame you. I own a rocking hot body and all, and you had easy access."

"I'm so, so sorry if I did anything inappropriate, Santana!" she apologized, pleading for the girl to forgive her for any possible slight she'd caused.

"Hey, it's alright, it was kind of funny. And I learned your hands aren't exactly manly in the process, or maybe it's just that my ass is bigger than I thought." Santana mused openly, tapping a finger playfully on her chin as she pretended to be deep in thought.

Rachel was too busy blushing and fumbling through her own thoughts to really form any sort of comeback after being complimented, however it may have been worded. It was a strange, yet proud feeling to hear the hottest girl in school saying she's cute, that she has nice hands, and that she didn't mind them on her naked body. Immediately, she fought off her imagination as it conjured a plethora of scenarios where she had her hands on the cheerleader, feeling it was an entirely inappropriate time and situation to think of such things.

Her eyes caught Santana moving over to her side before taking a seat beside her and the tree Rachel was up against; the cheerleader's hand soon sought out her own and weaved their fingers together experimentally before resting the interlocked pair on her lap. "I'm… sorry… for being such a bitch today, you didn't deserve it. I want to go home too, but I really don't mind being out here with you either, Rachel." Santana spoke softly, her eyes staring at the pair of hands in her lap fondly. Feeling a little brave, as well as thankful that they had gotten some of their ill will out of the way, Rachel simply nodded and rested her head against Santana's shoulder. She was rather proud of the happy sigh Santana let out at the show of affection.

"I'd like that. And…thank you for everything, Santana. Even today, I knew…deep down, I knew I was safe with you, and I shouldn't have questioned that as much as I did. You were really mean today, and I still don't forgive you for all that you've done at school, but…I think I might be ready to soon." She responded after a few seconds of comfortable silence, wanting to get her perspective out in the open.

She was answered by Santana's other hand slowly gliding down her uninjured leg. "Are your legs sore?" the cheerleader asked simply, looking at Rachel with concern. Rachel, not entirely certain where the conversation was heading, simply nodded in confusion. Her legs were actually quite sore and overworked. "Then just relax and let me make up for what I did to you today."

Santana reached into Rachel's bag, pulling out an apple to hand to her. It was one of her last ones, but the diva happily took it, feeling quite hungry still. As she took a generous bite, she felt the other girl's hands on her calves, gently but insistently massaging the aching muscles. She heard herself moan, and she wasn't sure whether it was from the apple or Santana's touches, knowing both were delicious. Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the tree and smiled, feeling better already.

"I'm not a professional masseuse or anything, but I hope this helps…being on the Cheerios means you need to be able to recover as fast as possible, so we're kind of taught a bunch of minor stuff like this." Santana spoke quietly as her hands began working their way up toward her thigh. With how the girl sounded slightly uncertain, Rachel decided not to chime in, to just let her fill whatever awkward silence the girl was battling with. She didn't care too much, her legs were feeling quite reinvigorated from the cheerleader's touch. "One time, Sue and some other people abducted me in the middle of the night. I didn't know it was them at the time they took my blood-work, but when they left me in a field and she told me I had to be back at McKinley in time for practice that morning…I couldn't believe it. I'd have to be back by seven, or else I was off the team…do you know how hard that was? I was gagged and my head was hooded and the vehicle kept changing speeds all the time. The sun wasn't even close to rising, and I was left to watch two vehicles traveling in opposite directions, no obvious hints at all."

Rachel sat there, not understanding why Sue would do that to anyone, and definitely not understanding why the cheer coach wasn't in Guantanamo Bay for her actions. Rachel was pretty certain that the woman was a menace to society. "What did you do?" she asked as Santana's hands worked a tight knot out.

"You know, I have to thank Quinn for that one. A week before, I heard her saying something about spatial awareness to Britt while we were showering. She was being all serious, and I couldn't make out most words, but when the hood was put on my head, I was lucky enough to have that be the first thought that came to mind. So I tried my best not to stress out, and to just try and make a mental map. I got back to McKinley with twelve minutes to spare…enough to shower, change, and rush onto the field. My directions were off, and it cost me about twenty minutes or so, but I did it. Made for a long day, though."

"A long day? Santana, she should have been arrested for that! You…you should have pressed charges. My family is well acquainted with the local branch of the ACLU, and I would have been happy to help." Rachel spoke, frustrated at the thought of being woken up during valuable sleeping hours and having to guess a direction to travel in. She couldn't imagine having to do something similar just to remain in glee club.

Santana laughed at her remark, which annoyed her a little, because she didn't understand what was so funny. "Rachel…there's a reason why Sue never gets in trouble. I'm about ninety percent sure that the Cheerios is some weird paramilitary training program or at least an experiment." Santana noted with some amusement, though to Rachel, the statements weren't amusing at all. She opened her eyes and looked into Santana's, gauging the girl's honesty. "I'm serious, hear me out. She's pretty much like a drill instructor, right? And the impromptu tests we're forced into at all hours are usually pretty extreme, dangerous and at times illegal. You know about the survival training, and the combat training, some of us have had serious first aid training, and Britt hides it but she's really good at forgery when she wants to be. Sue's had us break into people's homes and businesses before, which is how Quinn got so good at picking locks with her nail file. You should see her work a vault, she's kind of like a wizard. So if you ever piss her off, never leave anything valuable in your locker."

Rachel gulped, thinking back to the past few years and all of her cherished trinkets that had suspiciously gone missing or that she thought had been damaged somehow by her textbooks or whatnot. She'd have to talk to Quinn about that when she got back. Or, you know, maybe not. "Duly noted, Santana."

"Though the most suspicious thing has been how for the last three years, we've had to infiltrate the St. Louis Rams' facility and steal their playbook and call-sign codes, along with any cheerleading choreography if there is any. I mean, that's kind of mean, and they've won like, six games in the past three years…it's embarrassing, but each year, their security system's ramped up, so that makes it all a bit more interesting." Santana noted wistfully, clearly reliving some oddly cherished moments committing felonies. Rachel was simply aghast.

"What if you got caught?! There are so many cheerios on the team, I can't see forty or so teenagers getting in without being seen." Rachel exclaimed, entirely confused with how any of those actions and exercises happen without disastrous results.

"Not all Cheerios get put into that kind of thing. Just the ones that pass the tests and everything. Some Cheerios have been caught in the past, but usually the smaller fake ones coach sets up to test us. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd much prefer getting a good night's sleep and resting my ass after all of her workouts, but sometimes the missions and everything are kind of fun. And if I were to get caught, I'm a minor, and my identity would be withheld from the media, and I'd get a reduced sentence at best…I could argue coercion, really…and Sue would blackmail or bribe whatever judge to basically get us both protection." Santana explained, shaking her head as she continued her massage up Rachel's thigh, applying pressure to a slightly cramped up area. "But yeah, it's kind of weird. Like we're being trained to be marines or some shit, to show women can do stuff too. I mean, we do a physical each year during summer camp, and I'm pretty sure it's the same one the marines use…which always sucks to do, but it's kind of competitive, and I'm the three mile run reigning champ for two years running. Anyway, most of the things we're told to do are somehow even loosely related to cheerleading, or Sue's enemies, so most don't really put two and two together...I just figure there's a reason behind it, you know?"

Rachel just nodded for a few seconds, but she couldn't help but let her curiosity get the better of her. "Santana…you don't need the Cheerios, you're popular enough. Why do you stay in them if they're so…difficult?" she asked, earning a hesitant look from the cheerleader, who just lowered her gaze and began working on Rachel's other leg.

"I…have my reasons, okay? I wouldn't be on the team if I felt I could afford to be off them." Santana murmured, her hands drawing a relieved sigh from Rachel as they went over a particularly sore area.

"Sue's not…blackmailing or threatening…" she started, before a short laugh cut her off. The thought of Sue being this paramilitary leader made the prospect of approaching her and thanking her a bit more difficult. She couldn't help but imagine being abducted in the middle of the night and water boarded until she told her all the things Santana had leaked to her. She really, really didn't want that to happen.

"Nothing like that, don't worry. I'm sure if I quit, coach wouldn't be happy, and I've technically breached my confidentiality clause I signed, but whatever. Would anyone really believe a bunch of cheer-leading teens stole a pro football team's playbook? Probably not." Santana added with a small grin. "No, it's…I'll tell you later or something, alright? I've talked more in the past half hour than I have for most of the weekend, so I'll just leave that for another time if that's cool."

Rachel couldn't help but frown at the thought her having to wait for her curiosity to be sated, but she knew that with the right prodding, she'd eventually get the girl to spill. "You're under no obligation to tell me anything, Santana. I hope you understand that." She said, which was true, even if she desperately wanted answers to the questions floating in her mind.

"I do…but you're the closest thing I have to a friend outside of Quinn and Britt, and…well, that means something to me. So I want to try and be around you how I am around them, I guess." Santana noted uncertainly, looking up at her for some sort of confirmation that it was alright. Rachel Berry wasn't one to turn down friendship, certainly, so she just smiled brightly and gave the girl a reassuring nod, which seemed to relax her. "We'll keep going on for a bit more today…maybe make camp around five? You've been a trooper today, you deserve a restful evening."

Rachel smiled at the thought of kicking back for an entire night. While she was looking forward to getting home, it didn't seem like they'd get to town that day, so she certainly wasn't opposed to taking an earlier break so her body could recuperate. And perhaps, with the right conversational prodding, she'd be able to figure out who exactly Santana Lopez was.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the afternoon was rather splendid, all things considered. Santana had slowed down their pace to a leisurely one, and had taken the time to constantly point out survival tips for any sort of situation Rachel could think of, whether it was on ways of foraging and determining what was safe to eat, to what trees to target for the creation of self-made shelters, with the promise that sometime in the summer, Santana would personally show her how. Rachel did her best to catalogue every morsel of information away for later, just savouring the experience of having the nice, friendly Santana back with her. Truthfully, if anything, Santana seemed a lot more relaxed and friendlier than she'd been all weekend, which she was happy about, and she even sang along with her when she found it too difficult not to burst into song. Though the cheerleader did laugh through half of 'Whistle While You Work', which happened to both ruin the melody and remind her of why she believed in Santana back in the green room during sectionals in sophomore year. The girl just seemed to be so freed up from all the status and reputation that constantly surrounded her, and it was kind of wonderful to see such a genuine bout of laughter free of malice from her.

"So, Berry, how long exactly have you been doing what you do? I mean…you know, singing, dancing, acting, all that triple threat stuff." She heard Santana ask as the girl used her hatchet to clear their path a little bit better.

The question was one which she could answer simply, or extensively. She wasn't sure how long Santana's patience would hold for, but she decided something in the middle would suffice, even if it leaned closer to the latter than the former. "Well, I've been singing since I was born, I'm told, but I have memories of singing at three years old. I've been taking lessons and going to summer camps ever since, and entering competitions where I'm able. As for dancing, I've been doing that since I was four, ballet since I was six. Various other forms of dance since then. I don't take dancing lessons nearly as often, considering I feel I've reached my peak in our local area, so mostly I focus on my flexibility and balance through yoga." She noted cheerfully, quite happy that Santana had taken enough of an interest to ask. It sort of impressed her to see that the girl wasn't simply asking to be polite, but was intently paying attention. Most people just droned her out halfway through her ramblings. "As for acting, it was a more recent development that I started seriously when I was nine. I have a summer camp in August that I usually go to in order to develop my talents in that as well, though I feel that I am something of a natural at it."

She saw Santana nod as they weaved through the trees and up the slight slope of the terrain. "It's cool that you've had this idea of what you want to do since you were young. I mean, it's kind of intimidating, but it's kind of awesome."

Rachel's eyes widened at hearing Santana consider her focus and drive intimidating, as well as complimenting her for it. After their afternoon drama session, she'd come to accept that Santana enjoyed having her around, and wanted to be her friend, but she didn't expect compliments. She hadn't really received many from her peers, unless they were backhanded or laced with some social expectation for her to reward the complimenting individual with sexual favours. Rachel knew that it would take time to get used to Santana being genuine around her, especially considering how thorny the girl usually was, but she was glad to have the opportunity. She'd always known there was more to the girl than torrents of vicious insults, fiery glares and unchecked aggression, but it was still a mystery as to how much extra that hard shell of hers was hiding.

"Well, I have been working under the assumption that people have bullied me because they were either jealous of my talents, or scared of how they match up in comparison in their hobbies and goals. Yet, just because I've known for quite some time what I've wanted to do, and had parental support all the way, it doesn't mean I'm necessarily operating under a brighter future than everyone else. Broadway is ridiculously competitive, and you either make it big there, or you work as a starving artist for most of your life. There's a brief window of success everyone has to aim for, and not everyone gets it in musical theatre. There are more opportunities for those who decide to become lawyers after they graduate high school, or those who have been out of school for five years and decide to start studying a trade." Rachel explained patiently, slowing her pace to a half to match Santana, who was just staring at her like she'd solved some mysterious puzzle, and was trying to comprehend how. "Santana?"

"I never thought of it that way." Santana merely said, shaking her head as she started walking again. "But you'll make it. I know you will."

Rachel smiled at the girl's admission, and that someone aside from her fathers, and Finn conditionally, was confident in her chances. "Well, I appreciate that, Santana. I also feel that I will surpass any obstacles I may cross paths with, even if I know the odds are not in my favour. It isn't often that people can grow their hobby into a career." She remarked as she fell into lockstep with the cheerleader, the both of them reaching a more sparsely forested area. "What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"

Santana seemed to go immediately deep into thought as they traveled, and Rachel could only hope for a comprehensive answer instead of a one liner. She was incredibly curious, and she didn't like going too long without answers to questions she pursued. It was why she liked Google so much, she could often just search for knowledge she was after, and it would be available. Santana, though, was akin to finding an ancient text written in Hebrew that could only be exposed to light for a span of thirty minutes a day. She supposed that it was a lot safer being closed off from everyone, but she hoped that Santana would feel comfortable enough to open up around her.

"Well…I like hiking and everything, like I said. My dad used to take me all the time, and I kind of grew to love it out here. I feel more at home here than in my house, if that makes any sense." Santana noted with a strange, wistful tone that Rachel found confusing; it didn't make any sense to feel more at home in a forest in northern Michigan than in her own home. Perhaps specific areas like auditoriums, because those made sense. Those were uniform, though perhaps she could concede that the freedom allowed out in the wilderness was enough of a comparable. "And I like singing, as you've seen in glee. I occasionally play video games, it's a nice break from reality…reading's good too, but I tend to get really into books when I read, and I don't like that a heck of a lot."

Rachel nodded cheerfully as she hoped Santana would continue; she'd been given some bare bones information with tidbits that showed off parts of her character. Such as getting easily immersed in novels, which suggested the girl's imagination was both active and potent, making Rachel wonder how creative the girl was in other art forms.

"And…I mean, I like cooking. If Quinn ever does her Stepford Wife act and serves you a meal, you can bet it's because I taught her everything she knows. My mom works late most days, so when I get home I have to prep dinner and everything, and get her lunch made for the next day. It's kind of fun, like it's like science, but delicious." Santana continued, her final remark forcing a disbelieving laugh out of Rachel's mouth. It had been amusing hearing her ramble on about cooking, but the last part showed a bit of child-like playfulness that she'd only seen in a single girl her age, specifically a tall blonde cheerleader. _Maybe that's why they were able to get along so well…maybe Santana kind of likes being able to just be a big kid sometimes…and that's not a bad thing, it's probably wonderful to just let go of all the burdens and worries we as teens often have to shoulder…even if it's just for a little while…_

Rachel dug her hand into her package of trail mix, the talk of food causing her hunger to peek its head out again. She chewed on her handful for a moment before deciding to add to the other girl's ego a little bit; no harm in adding to their budding camaraderie. "I'll be certain to thank you if Quinn serves me a meal, even if you're absent, Santana. Well, just as long as you can promise me protection, Quinn still scares me a little, and I'm not sure she would react well to such a remark." She noted, earning her a smug grin on Santana's face.

"Will do, you don't have to worry about Blondie. Anyways, yeah, I think that's it for my hobbies…cooking, singing, hiking, video games, dancing…" Santana started listing off, but the inclusion of one activity that had been omitted from her previous discussion made Rachel feel warranted in interrupting the cheerleader.

"You dance?" Rachel asked inquisitively, which led to a confused look from Santana. "I mean…you didn't mention it before, even though I've seen you move around in glee, but I had no idea…"

"I dance, alright?" Santana blurted out, in turn interrupting Rachel. Which, she figured, was simply fair considering she'd done the interrupting first. "I dance, even at venues that aren't people's laps. I mean, I enjoy an intimate crowd every now and then, but I have to keep them limited if I want them to be special, you know? So I do the tango, waltz, foxtrot, jitterbug, belly dancing, some of that jazz crap...you know?"

Rachel couldn't help but be a little put off by the girl's reaction and assumption that Rachel's first thoughts were of her being an expert at lap dances, but it was difficult to be upset when she was so enamored by how the cheerleader was blushing and nervous. It was clearly something she was fairly insecure about, and Rachel felt it was her duty to help make Santana confident about it.

"I had no idea you were so into dance, Santana, but I would never even think that you specialize only in something that strippers excel at. If I must make it clear, I apologize for my remark about you having a future on a stripper pole, I was out of line and entirely incorrect in my assessment of you. I'm certain that you are a fantastic dancer." She said, hoping it would cheer the other girl up, but Santana just seemed to look more conflicted.

"Look, Britt's a pro, I'm not like her. It's fun and all, and I'm even damn passable at pretty much everything, but I wouldn't say I'm fantastic. Britt's fantastic, Mike's fantastic." Santana added, sounding sadder than her neutral expression would have given away.

Rachel took a moment to think back to all their glee meetings, trying to recall Santana legitimately dancing, not just moving to the music excitedly like everyone else often did. She recalled the duet with Mercedes, and how Santana had swayed a bit, and improvised some comedic moments, but she couldn't pinpoint the girl dancing. "I haven't seen you in any of the town's dance classes, are you being privately tutored? Why don't you ever showcase yourself in glee? I'm sure Mr. Schue would love to have another dancer around."

"Rachel, you're probably a better dancer than me…at least technically. And big groups aren't really my thing, you know? So classes wouldn't work for me. Britt taught me…she's an amazing teacher. She'd come by an hour or so after her classes and run me through everything, hang out a bit, and I'd pay her in skittles and warheads." Santana continued, smiling as she seemed to relive some of the lessons in her mind, judging by the faraway look in her eyes. Rachel couldn't help but imagine Brittany greedily taking Santana's candy in exchange for her dance lessons, as if it were a completely lopsided transaction. "As for glee…it's complicated. You wouldn't get it."

Rachel forced herself to only internally scoff at the dismissal, feeling that her intelligence and empathetic nature allowed her to be someone who could indeed 'get it', and very likely would if given the opportunity. "Why wouldn't I get it? I know how difficult glee club can be…it's a big reason why we've needed this bonding trip."

Santana was quiet for a few moments, before she let out a long sigh that Rachel could only take as a sign of success. "Look, you're awesome at what you do. Best singer in Lima, probably in all of Ohio. Definitely the best actress in Lima, and one of the best dancers." Rachel wanted to happily appreciate the compliments Santana was giving her, but the way she was saying them led her to believe that perhaps she wasn't saying all of that strictly to be charitable in the face of Rachel's talents. "It's not like you're worried about critiques or whatever, because haters are gonna hate, and they're just jealous they don't even qualify as competition. It's different when you're just…average at something. Passable. There's always someone else…lots of people that everyone would rather see perform instead, lots of people they'd rather dance with. Glee's a big competition in the shape of a totem pole, and unless you're the best, it's safer to keep your cards closer to your chest. Makes it easier for people to respect you and have confidence in you, if they think that you maybe have untapped potential."

Rachel could understand the girl's logic; she's noticed how hard it had been on Kurt and Mercedes to take a backseat to her, constantly being seen as runner-ups or second best. She imagined it would be stifling, to compete and constantly lose out on solo competitions; competitions where they're given opportunities to claw their way to the top, only they never make it. Rachel can only imagine how hard it would be to be stuck doing off-Broadway plays, and how much that would hurt. It had taken Rachel months to get over the guilt she felt about Kurt and Mercedes, and even Tina.

"You don't want to be second best. Or…worse." Rachel conceded, earning a weary nod from Santana.

"I just want to have fun in Glee…if I push myself into the spotlight, I'm going to want the top, but I know I'd lose, and I'd get bitter. I don't want to feel competitive in glee, it's my musical sanctuary. I already tried being competitive when I sang 'Back to Black', and despite being damn confident in myself, and knowing the judging was rigged to all hell, I knew I wouldn't have won, and it sucked. Sure, I was better than Lady Hummel's gaudy theatrics and Wheezy's marathon of runs, but that's it." Santana noted with a sad smile; Rachel could see the girl's damaged pride in her expression, and knew there wasn't much she could say to repair it.

"Santana, how much vocal training have you done?" Rachel asked quietly, Santana shaking her head tiredly at the question.

"None. Well, I had music class from grade five through nine. And I sing when my mom's not around." Santana noted matter-of-factly, and Rachel just wanted to give the girl a hug, but she wasn't sure it would be appreciated. It was also yet another time where she'd omitted her father, making her wonder if he was still in the equation.

"I have lessons four times a week…hour and a half long sessions on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, and a four hour marathon session on Saturday afternoons. I go to show choir camps every summer, and often spend my winter and spring breaks practicing. I…I just put in the time, Santana. I'm not naturally better, I'm just closer to reaching my potential, but it doesn't change your potential. I'm just more skilled, experienced right now." She tried to explain, hoping that it would help ease the girl's insecurities a little bit. She knew that it was difficult when Brittany and Mike would get all the dancing solos, but she had to acknowledge that the duo put in much more time on that craft than she did.

"Wanky." Santana muttered, a small nervous grin on her face; Rachel wondered exactly when she came to be able to differentiate between Santana's grins and expressions, but as they kept interacting, the girl seemed more and more like an open book, so long as Santana wasn't actively closing herself completely off. "But hey, I know you are, just like Britt is with dancing. It's impossible to catch up to you two because any progress I make, you two make, if not more. I'll never be good enough in time for glee to count on me, so why even bother? Why prove that reality to everyone in glee and end up like Sam, who never gets to sing ever, even less than I do?"

Rachel pondered over the question, noting that it was true that Sam's voice wasn't all that great, so he was often relegated to support, much like Artie and Puck were. "I think that glee could appreciate you being someone who could do a little bit of everything, if needed. I don't think it would be a bad thing."

Santana stopped and turned to face Rachel, her expression taking a serious turn, which Rachel felt conflicted about; it was obvious that she touched a nerve and upset Santana somewhat, but it also meant that it was possible that Santana would reveal more about herself. She felt guilty for wanting to know more, and kind of just wanted to end the conversation, but she knew Santana had something to say, so she'd let the girl air her grievances. "People know me as Santana Lopez. Head Bitch in Charge. A girl to be feared, from Lima Heights Adjacent. Best damn cheerleader on the squad, even if Quinn's technically the head for cosmetic reasons. I worked HARD for all that acclaim. I'm the meanest, toughest, hottest bitch in that school, best cheerleader, two cheer-leading nationals trophies, four point zero GPA with a boatload of senior advanced placement courses in just my junior year. There's no need to add mediocre traits and hobbies to my public resume, Rachel."

Rachel figured she knew what Santana was getting at, and decided she wouldn't back down. No one needed to be perfect at everything. They could be good at something in public, instead of keeping everything hidden because they didn't think they were good enough, even if they were better than ninety nine percent of the people in their area. "Santana, you're in Glee, everyone knows it. We haven't won nationals, does that make you mediocre?" she asked, feeling her inquiry was entirely legitimate, but it was only met with an amused scoff.

"I can get away with saying I don't try in glee, and that's kind of a fact. That, and people think I'm a mole for Sue still, even with me out of the Cheerios. There's no benefit to bringing out my weaknesses for everyone to see." Santana remarked, looking as if she were visibly attempting to calm herself down, which made Rachel hopeful that she'd keep herself open.

"It's okay to be vulnerable sometimes, Santana." Rachel added, and immediately regretted it when she saw a burst of frustrated rage flash across Santana's face, the taller girl turning away immediately before throwing her hatchet into a far away tree out of anger. Rachel swallowed hard, understanding that she indeed made a big mistake. Vulnerability and Santana apparently weren't even comfortable acquaintances.

"It's not fucking okay if it puts Britt or anyone else at risk! Fuck!" the girl yelled out, her voice more a primal roar than anything; Rachel had learned enough to not be scared at such an outburst anymore, but it still unnerved and upset her to see Santana so worked up and distressed. She watched as Santana slowly seemed to reign herself in, breathing heavily at first before letting her anger fade off enough to not seem so visibly agitated. "If I look weak, my rep falls, and if my rep falls people might think they can get away with hurting glee club, and maybe they might think they could get away with hurting Britt."

Santana walked slowly forward, Rachel following her to the tree where the girl's hatchet was buried in; the cheerleader dislodged it and sheathed it, before slumping down against it. Rachel could tell they'd begun to wade into an old wound, one that seemed to be fundamental to how Santana operated. She worried for the girl, and just knew she'd be there for her if Santana needed her. "I can't bring a damn hatchet to school, okay? I'd get expelled. My rep at McKinley is the only thing keeping Britt from being hurt in any kind of way. I…I can't let that happen, so I go on being the scary HBIC, because it's the only way I can make sure Britt goes to school happy, and goes home happy, without having to bribe her with gummi-worms and duck stickers." Santana noted quietly, her face fighting a war of emotions as she clearly was trying and failing to rein her feelings in. Rachel simply stood in front of her, in awe of the mini-revelation; she'd thought of Santana as Brittany's guard dog for as long as she'd known her, but had never taken the time to consider if that was her innate nature, or if it was for the blonde's sake. Rachel was brought out of her thoughts by Santana scoffing at something, which she quickly surmised was her, given the frustrated glare Santana was sending her. "You can stop looking at me like that, alright? I don't regret a damn day of any of it."

Rachel, stunned by the girl's words, could only offer a confused look as a "What?" escaped her throat. She'd rarely felt so eloquent and verbose, truly.

Santana crossed her arms and cast her gaze to the ground in front of her feet. "I know you're thinking about how I've been horrible to everyone just to protect basically one person, but it was worth it. You…the glee club…the rest of McKinley…you can all take the heat I dish out. I fucking regulate it…I know everyone's face, and when I made every one of them miserable last. I spread shit out, made it fair, it was all I could do, and no one can tell me otherwise. People are fucking cruel, and I wouldn't take any of it back, because in her whole time at high school, Britt's only had three days where she's gone home sad." Santana ranted, her tone rough and aggressive, but Rachel could hear the subtle choices in words, and her silent pleas for Rachel to just understand, even if she didn't accept it.

"Santana, everyone loves Brittany. And she's always happy. It's kind of strange how unflappable she is." Rachel voiced out loud, kind of expecting a proud remark from the cheerleader about how that's her doing, or that she's built Brittany to be so strong. She didn't expect a choked sob.

"You don't ever get it…you don't see her, alright? Do you not remember elementary school and how horrible people were to her?" Santana asked, wiping at her face with her t-shirt, still not making eye-contact with Rachel. She honestly tried thinking back to grade school, but couldn't really remember anything about the duo from back then. She remembered them being close friends, but not much else. "Britt may seem like she recovers well from being hurt, but it's really the opposite. If someone calls her stupid, she's going to be upset, and ten minutes later, she'll look like she's back to normal, but she'll have accepted that she's stupid like it's a god-given fact. And that will hurt her for a long time…and it takes even longer to fix that kind of damage, you know? To coax it out of her system? That's why I pushed for us to be cheerleaders, so I could protect her, and glee gave her room to express herself without being hassled for how she sees the world, and that helped her confidence too. But it's the end of junior year and sometimes I still hear her talk about how Puck told her in sixth grade that she was as dumb as a sheep, and in ninth grade she learned sheep were really stupid, and it took weeks to convince her Puck was wrong. It's even harder when the teachers think she's beyond helping, and refuse to even assign her tutors, so I have to do that for her."

Santana took a deep breath, Rachel unsure whether the cheerleader had spoken so much in an average month as she had in that day alone. "So fuck it, everyone else can take my bullying and whatever. It's unfortunate…it sucks, and it doesn't make me feel good. Hell, it makes me feel like scum sometimes, but it's better than seeing Britt get hurt and not know how to make herself feel better, thinking she's like humpty-dumpty, but with no horses or king's men to put her back together. Just me…and one day…how long will it be until I'm not enough? Until she realizes that I'm the only one who thinks she needs help, and that she's worthy of being put back together? How long until she just decides to accept that she's what everyone says about her, and that it's not worth thinking better of herself? I need…I NEED for her to get into some brilliant dance school, or traveling dance troupe or something. Britt's a genius at dancing, and she'll be safer among people like her, where she'll be judged by her ability, not her obsession with ducks or her paranoia of Lord Tubbington's mafia connections and smoking habit."

Rachel didn't really know what to say to all of that; she thought Brittany was just a ray of sunshine, but hearing that her light was kept bright by the product of fear and bullying was difficult to stomach, yet she could understand why Santana felt it necessary given her knowledge of how Brittany functions. She didn't necessarily condone the girl's behavior, but she could respect the loyalty Santana had provided her friend. It was kind of remarkable. So she knelt down in front of Santana, who seemed to be struggling mightily to keep from breaking under the weight of the burden she'd just shared.

"Brittany will get to where she needs to be. I'm certain you'll make sure of it, and she'll be happy there." Rachel noted softly as she gently wrestled Santana's hands into her own. "She'll be okay. Just one more year."

Santana shook her head as a few more tears broke across her reddened cheeks. "I just need her to, you know? Just like I need Quinn to get to some prissy Ivy League school where she can get away from her parents' influence and that whole Stepford Wife shit they bred into her all her life. She's so fucking smart, Rachel, and she has to know that's okay, and that it doesn't make her less of a woman and less desirable or whatever. Just like you need Broadway and to win your second Tony award by the time you're twenty five, just to show that all you've done and been through was worth it, that people can overcome a stupid amount of shit and be successful and happy. That Lima can go fuck itself."

Rachel smiled at the girl's concern for herself and Quinn as well, though she was intrigued by her own omission. "It seems like everyone has their place in life they need to get to. And where does Santana Lopez fit in?"

Santana simply shrugged and bit her lip at Rachel's question. "A tale for another day I guess. It doesn't matter now anyway…if I need to be a bitch and angry a while longer, and can't be myself around my friends in public, I guess that's how it has to be, because I can take it. I just need everyone I like to get out of Lima happy and healthy, and when they're free, I'm free. Sure, I'll still be a bit of a bitch, but I'll figure things out then."

Rachel frowned at the prospect of Santana putting herself last, when it clearly wasn't necessary, though she wondered if perhaps Santana was so wound up in thinking about her friends' futures that she hadn't seriously considered her own. Given the girl's dedication to Brittany and all of her extra-curriculars, it would make a fair bit of sense, she figured. "You'll find your way too, Santana. I'll help you get there too, and I'm sure Quinn and Brittany will give you all of their support as well." She added with a smile, squeezing the cheerleader's hands encouragingly. "I can help with Brittany next year too, even if it's just some tutoring and moral support. I want to help make it easier. I should have the free time to fit her into my schedule, and it would free you up to focus on school and resting up. I can't imagine the pressure you put on yourself."

Santana just squeezed back, dropped her hands and got up to her feet, prompting Rachel to do the same. She expected Santana to shrug and gesture for them to keep walking. And true, the girl eventually did do that, but not before unexpectedly enveloping Rachel in a brief hug that expressed everything she knew Santana didn't have the energy to say after the long talks they'd had. She understood the effects of emotional exhaustion, after all. She simply hugged back until Santana let go and got them back on track and on their way.

She couldn't be at all displeased with how quickly Santana had opened up to her; it seemed she really was being true to her words and treating Rachel like a friend, something the diva was particularly thrilled about. The amount of trust Santana bestowed upon her was staggering, with so much potential ammunition that could tear down all of the cheerleader's progress within the social hierarchy at school. It was somewhat relieving to learn that the girl wasn't evil, and that she wasn't a saint either. She was stuck in the middle ground like everyone else, a girl with her own serious set of flaws and motives. And the longer she thought about it, the happier she was that Santana considered her a friend, because while the girl's loyalty was fierce and unyielding, her absolute indifference to pretty much everyone else was something she truly didn't want to experience again. She'd once thought that Santana's efforts in bullying her were because she was talented, unpopular, maybe that Santana was jealous. That it all boiled down to her not being Brittany, and thus being deserving of being bullied in the blonde's stead, left something of a bad taste in her mouth. Though she could see that Santana probably didn't know any other way to function, having been trying to protect Brittany since they were learning their ABCs. Could she really blame her for sticking with a method that worked, when most others apparently failed? It was difficult to reconcile her awe over the lengths Santana had went through to protect her best friend, and her repulsion over the fact that Santana became a bully simply to make herself and Brittany immune from bullying rather than challenging the system. It was something she'd have to consider going forward.

* * *

Santana was exhausted. Perhaps not physically, but emotionally, she was pretty much hovering around the aftermath of when she'd eclipsed her breaking point earlier in the day, which seemed to happen twice. She didn't know that could actually happen, really. It was kind of really confusing. Not that she hadn't had similar blowouts before; she'd had one in seventh grade when, on a day that she was at home suspended for beating up one of Britt's bullies, Britt visited her with an absolutely tear-streaked, bruised face, the blonde all covered in mud and scrapes. She couldn't honestly remember what happened over the next six hours, but she did remember lying on the couch, watching Duck Tales, comforting a heavily bandaged Brittany S Pierce while they waited for the blonde's parents to get home. The second blowout was just after learning that Quinn got pregnant, after having cornered the blonde in a janitor's closet after cheer practice. Just hearing the news had imploded the sense of security she'd created for her two best friends, and she knew Quinn being pregnant changed everything, and Quinn trusting Puck to help her feel better instead of her best friend was just the twisting of the dagger that Santana was in no position to endure. So she'd exploded on Quinn, all of her worries and struggles and efforts in keeping her and Britt safe spilling out into the open, all of her plans and methods filling that stifling janitor's closet. Until Santana 's outburst earlier in the day, Quinn had been the only one to know just how far she was willing to go for her friends, and Santana had liked the idea of it staying that way, but Rachel fucking Berry had a way of making her talk.

Rachel Berry. The same girl seated on a log across from her, snacking cheerfully on some vegan oatmeal raisin cookies she'd had hidden away all trip long. The same girl that had sang 'Whistle While You Work' with far, far too much enthusiasm and choreography from the film for her to not have a laughing fit over. The same girl who she put through hell earlier in the day, yet seemed entirely and unfairly unfazed instead of standoffish and hurt like Santana knew the diva should have been toward her. Rachel Berry was an anomaly.

Santana grabbed a small handful of raisins from her pouch, thankful that dehydrated fruit is pretty much both healthy and capable of staying edible for long stretches of time. She eyed the small bag of marshmallows at her side, and the last few strips of jerky, and figured she'd probably dig into those soon. Their trip was nearly over, just a few hours of walking left, if her memory served right; in a way, she was happy that she'd taken the long way around through the woods, it helped her maybe start something with Berry that she wouldn't have had the chance to otherwise.

"You have a signal yet?" she asked the diva after watching her pull out her phone for a minute. Rachel just shook her head sadly, and put the device away again. Santana had hoped that when they got close enough to the town, they'd get something, but she figured that they were in a valley, so it could be helping kill their signal even if they should have coverage back.

"I wonder what everyone thinks happened." Rachel openly pondered, her mouth twisting off to the side as she slipped deeper into thought.

Santana just laughed as a series of ideas ran through her mind. "They probably think I butchered you and threw you in a ditch, after crafting some tree-bark hockey mask and everything." She noted with amusement, knowing how crazy some of the gleeks' imaginations were.

"Yeah, they've probably come to that sort of conclusion." Rachel noted with a small laugh, before the girl's features schooled into a much more serious, melancholy expression. "You know, the opposite is kind of true."

Santana knew what Rachel was getting at, but didn't really want to get into more heavy stuff, so she decided to divert the topic of the conversation. "I'm sorry your car's all messed up. I mean, you did throw us into the ditch and all, but it wasn't worthy of total destruction, even if it didn't stick the landing. Even if it was a Prius."

That seemed to get Rachel out of her mood, the girl offering her a playfully indignant glare and a dramatic scoff. "The Toyota Prius is a perfectly admirable vehicle, and is certainly worth mourning over properly." The diva remarked, a hint of a smile at the corner of her lips.

"Well, it's obviously clear how devoted you are to wildlife preservation and wellness, but does this mean we can't send the wreckage off in a Viking funeral? I was really looking forward to building a boat, tossing it on, and setting it on fire as we watched it sail down a river somewhere. I figured we could sing some Enya as it floated away or something." Santana noted with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which seemed to be doing well at cracking Rachel up.

"That would simply be wasteful, Santana, but it doesn't seem as if you mind, with those bags of beef jerky and gelatin-filled marshmallows by your side. You're not fooling me, carnivore crusader!" Rachel exclaimed before chomping down on another cookie. "Speaking of crusaders, do you think the police are looking for us?"

Santana considered all the available facts and shrugged. "Well, if anyone's taken the time to notice we're not there, and if they think we legitimately are missing, then yeah. We've been gone long enough to file a missing persons report." She noted, drawing a nod from the diva across from her.

"How far do you think it will be until we reach the town?" Rachel asked between bites, her enthusiasm for food reminding her of how Brittany is when she eats.

"A few hours of walking, we just need to get past that big hill there, I think. At the latest, tomorrow evening, but I'm thinking mid afternoon if all goes well. Especially if we get to bed early and start early." Santana openly mused, fairly confident in her estimates.

"Well that's inevitable, considering how hard we worked today." Rachel noted proudly, though the girl was clearly as tired as she was.

Santana couldn't help but let her guilt over the first half of their day linger in her mind. "Thanks to my own bitchiness." She muttered to herself, but apparently Rachel had crazy supernatural hearing, because the girl tossed a dehydrated apricot slice at her. Seriously.

"Santana, I won't have you feeling guilty about any of that." Rachel noted authoritatively, as if she were a teacher speaking to a student. It was kind of amusing, but she knew that Rachel was trying to look serious, even if she was failing. "We're both in this together, and I feel confident that we've overcome our major issues and have salvaged the day into something wonderful."

Santana looked into Rachel's eyes to gauge her sincerity, hopeful that the girl's words were true; she really wanted to believe she hadn't irreparably ruined their entire weekend after her outburst of rampaging bitchosaurus rex behavior, so it was nice to hear Rachel say what she did. Even if Rachel's eyes looked really intensely honest, even if she couldn't find it in herself to believe her, it was nice.

Rachel seemed to be wielding her psychic abilities well, tossing yet another dried apricot slice at her. She supposed that she had probably looked really transparent; she hadn't been attempting to mask her feelings since her last outburst, just to see how she'd feel around Rachel. "Santana, I'm serious." Rachel insisted, which again felt nice, but she knew she'd fucked up considerably, and would have a lot of making up to do. A few massages and some honesty wouldn't cut it. "I…it's been really nice to have met the Santana Lopez that most people don't know exists. That's been the bright point of my day."

Santana pulled out her little carving and began working on it, hoping her hair would effectively hide the deep blush filling her cheeks. She wasn't used to compliments, so she didn't really know how to take them. Not a big surprise or whatever. She appreciated them and all, but she just didn't know how to react. So she carved away, trying to ignore that Rachel Berry was making her blush like a fucking third grader, and that she couldn't really think up decent reasons for why she should be upset about that, aside from the whole reference to third graders and all. Berry was kind of really cute, in a quirky, dramatic spitfire sort of way. Ever since the first night of their trip to nationals, when she witnessed Rachel go from excitedly practicing choreography for one of their group numbers, to zonked out and snoring on the bed in a matter of ten seconds, that was pretty crystal clear to her. And Rachel was a really nice person; she'd have to be to even start forgiving her and to even compliment her. It just didn't make sense, but she wasn't going to question something like that. Asking someone why they're nice just usually resulted in a long-winded bunch of sentences about it all, and she figured that if she asked Rachel, the girl would go on for hours. And surprisingly, the thought of that wasn't so horrible, though she'd very much prefer Rachel sing, or engage her in a back and forth conversation than a one way monologue on her ethics and world view. And, looking at Rachel in her dirt encrusted shorts and 'Glee' t-shirt that she'd obviously custom ordered, she could see that with the heavy quantities of argyle and animal sweaters out of the way, Rachel was pretty attractive. _And she's tiny too…being the big spoon for once was kind of nice…again, not that it would ever happen again, but seeing as I'm thinking about reasons why she's making me blush and everything, it should probably be brought up…and I wouldn't have to lean up to kiss her or anything. Not that she'd want me to, being straight and all…not like I deserve for everything to go my way, anyway…_

"Well, the glee trip should be over tomorrow evening, so maybe if we go at a fast enough clip tomorrow, we can catch a ride back." Santana noted as she worked on carving out the inside of the wooden apple she'd made, knowing the little raspberry seed-shaped holes would be tricky.

"I can't wait to introduce the club to my personal hero." Rachel noted, and Santana could literally hear the smile on the girl's face. It would have been unnerving if it were anyone but Rachel in that context, but instead she felt like half of her blood moved to her face and all she could do was gulp back her emotions. Honestly, she didn't know which were going through her, whether they were apprehension, embarrassment, pride, sadness, joy, or any other sort of feeling she couldn't wrap her mind around. Perhaps it was all of the above. It was strange, so she just smiled shyly as she kept working away, hoping her face wouldn't explode from blushing. She felt fortunate that shortly after, that theory was tested and debunked, though her nerves did shoot through the roof as she found Rachel kneeling in front of her, slowly wresting her knife and carving out of her hands before taking both of Santana's in her own.

Santana fought to avert her gaze, but Rachel wasn't having any of it, and simply moved her head to wherever Santana was looking, until Santana decided it was too much work to be so stubborn. "Seriously, Santana. You shouldn't be shy about it…without you I'd be…well, someplace awful. More than likely I'd be hurt and terrified, and I can't begin to express how grateful I am that you've been with me, supporting me through all of this."

Santana could see the emotions welling in Rachel's unfairly large, cocoa brown eyes and could only shrug at first as words failed her. "I…um…it was nothing." She managed, somehow forming the words as her mind was under duress from the other girl's intense gaze. She was pretty sure that on any given day, Rachel could give Quinn a run for her money in that department.

"It was closer to everything than nothing." Rachel noted softly, her eyes pleading Santana to listen to her, even if Santana really kind of didn't want to hear it. Most people would help other people if they needed to, she wasn't special for helping or deserving of acclaim or some crap like that. "You defended me. You literally fought to keep me safe. You've been level headed enough for the both of us. And…and it might not mean anything to you, but it means a lot to me. People don't do that sort of thing for me."

Santana just sat silently as she watched Rachel stand and move back over to her log, grabbing another cookie. "I…I'll be right back. Just going to go relieve myself before we pack up for the night." Rachel noted, moving on in the direction of whatever lucky tree or bush the girl planned to defile.

Santana, feeling relieved from the loss of Berry's presence, quickly packed up their things and moved them into the tent; she was rarely one to waste any time, and she hoped that in doing the clean-up, she'd calm the hell down. It was still fairly early, the sun just setting, so she rolled out her sleeping bag and laid out on it, giving her legs a short massage to get some of the tighter knots out. Her body was still stiff and sore in general, and her shoulder was still throbbing, but it was all a manageable sort of pain. Santana was feeling better than she had the previous day, at least, which meant that she was healing alright. She just hoped that the next morning, she'd be feeling even better.

The light rustle of Rachel crawling in brought her attention away from her legs; Santana watched her slip into her bag, leaving one leg out the side, which Santana found amusing. She leaned over and pulled the sock off of the open foot and let out a light laugh. "I figure if you're keeping a leg out, you may as well go all the way with it." She noted, sitting back down on her own bag, facing Rachel this time, whose cheeks, even in the low light, looked a little pink.

"Hey, I want to be toasty, but not too toasty. Keeping a leg out helps me stay at a stable, warm temperature while still allowing me to vent any excess heat. And thank you for removing my sock, I was considering doing that, and it feels rather refreshing. And I'm rambling, I apologize." The diva spouted off a little nervously, her hands playing with the top hem of the sleeping bag. "Um, we…well, we don't know each other all that well, do we?"

Santana cocked her head to the side, figuring that Rachel knew a heck of a lot about her after today, but she entertained the girl by offering a noncommittal shrug. "We never really talked much before this weekend."

Rachel seemed to burst out of her nervousness as a smile spread across her face, the diva leaning forward as if she were about to spill some dirt on a conspiracy. "Do you want to play a game?"

Games were fun. At least, usually they were, though the last time she played a two person game that didn't involve cards or video games, it was a seven minutes in heaven session with Britt, in her room, with no one else around. Britt had seemed pretty excited to play, despite the lack of competition, and it gave the both of them an excuse to get their mack on, but that was over a year ago now. She assumed Rachel didn't have anything so saucy planned out, so she decided it probably wouldn't be the worst idea. "Sure, what kind of game?" she asked with a small smile, interested to know what the girl had in mind.

"I was thinking that with it just being the two of us, we could play a modified truth or dare game, just…well, dares out here could just get dangerous, so I was thinking we could cut those." Rachel noted, and Santana, while not entirely enthusiastic about the idea, figured it could pass the time.

"What happens if either of us don't want to answer a question?" she asked, and the disarming smile on Rachel's face knew it probably wouldn't be anything good.

"Then the person who had their question avoided gets to have three songs of their choosing on the drive home. ANY songs." Rachel said giddily, and Santana spied a look at her backpack, knowing a half-charged iPod was in there, just waiting to be used.

Santana let a sly grin curl at her lips as she considered all the songs she could potentially bombard Rachel with. "Sounds fair. Just know that to celebrate the first question of mine that you decide not to answer, I'm filling all three of my choices with 'Milkshake' by Kelis." She laughed, taking great enjoyment from the pout on Berry's face. Earlier in the year, Puck had harassed Rachel a few times about getting her to show off her Jewish-American 'milkshake', which would have probably been alright under normal circumstances, given Rachel's ability to withstand that sort of pressure. However, she'd been walking down the hall with Britt one day when the blonde overheard it and Britt, having felt an impromptu dance number was necessary, broke out her trusty boombox from her locker and serenaded Rachel to a rather sexual dance showing off her own 'milkshake', in hopes Rachel would join in. Needless to say, Rachel had been mortified, and the wound was apparently still fresh.

"I…hrm…well. I suppose that's a fair amount of pressure, considering I did force you through hours of Barbra…though to my credit it WAS my car, and I have heard people say that in such a context, I would in turn make the rules about stereo usage." Rachel noted nervously, biting her lip as she looked to be pondering something. "What's your favourite colour?"

"Purple, but I look better in red." Santana answered quickly, kind of hoping Rachel would be a bit more creative with her first question. "What's your favourite song?"

Rachel, much like Santana before her, didn't even hesitate. "Don't Rain on my Parade." The diva answered, before promptly falling back into her thoughts. For someone that wanted to play the game, Santana couldn't help but wonder how it was so hard to think up questions.

After a few seconds of silence, Santana figured she'd at least discuss Rachel's answer a bit, to let Rachel know it didn't need to be an intense game, it could be casual. "Honestly? I liked your rendition of that song at sectionals better than the original."

Santana suppressed a smile at Rachel's loud, dramatic gasp as the diva's gaze shot up to meet hers. A slow smile started spreading on Rachel's face to match the growing blush on her cheeks, a smile that kind of made Santana wonder what she got herself into. "Do…do you appreciate Barbra?" Berry asked disbelievingly, awe etched across all of her features. It was too much work to stifle the laughter she felt bubbling up, but her giggles didn't seem to phase the diva.

"I appreciate you, I guess. I mean, that performance took my breath away." Santana added, shaking her finger as Rachel started to talk again. "Nope, you asked if I appreciated Barbra, so it's my turn to ask a question again."

Rachel just huffed loudly, making visible her apparent discontent over the situation, her pout out in full force. Santana couldn't help but feel that the girl's petulant behavior was kind of adorable. "What's your favourite scent?" she asked, figuring a simple question would help get things rolling.

"The ocean smells lovely." Rachel answered, letting out a brief chuckle. "Santana, usually when people play these games, they ask people's favourite colours, celebrities, their birthdays, things like that."

Santana could only shrug; it wasn't her fault that she was perceptive and didn't really need to ask those. "Well, I know your birthday already, and obviously you're a fan of springtime, though winter's probably a close second for you given it has Hanukkah, Christmas songs, snow men, valentine's day, and is close to your birthday." Santana openly mused, finding Rachel's gaping mouth and confused expression to be rather amusing.

"You know my birthday?" the diva asked, apparently too shocked to blink. It was almost unnerving.

"I know, like, everyone's. Makes it easier to tease them and give prank gifts. Like the CD-R I gave you with a bunch of Celine Dion and Barbra songs that had the Duck Tales theme cut in at random." Santana said, holding back her laughter, as she saw Rachel's expression morph into one of accusation, the diva's finger pointing angrily at her shortly afterward. "Hey, don't get too mad at me, that was as much Britt's idea as it was mine. I planned on it being 'Milkshake', but she really thought the Duck Tales theme was too glorious to ignore. Anyway, your birthday's December 18th, a few days before the winter solstice, which makes it super easy to remember. I didn't need a birthday invite to know that."

Rachel crossed her arms and grumbled to herself for a bit before staring suspiciously at Santana. "What's YOUR birthday then?"

"April 16th." She answered right away, wondering if Rachel would return the favour next year and get her something ridiculous. The girl already had those cat calendar things she gave Finn, so the sky was the limit, she figured.

"It makes so much sense that you're an Aries." Rachel noted quietly, as if she'd solved a minor mystery.

"I can't believe you pay attention to that astrology shit, but whatever. I guess I'm an Aries, if that's what I am. What's your favourite food?" she asked, curious as to what the answer would be. She didn't know many vegan dishes, aside from those at Breadstix, but if she was going to be friends with Rachel and cook her food, she'd need to have an idea of what she liked. At least her favourite, so she could make it on her birthday, or when she nailed her NYADA audition or whatever.

The question seemed to stump Rachel for a few minutes before she straightened her posture, apparently having come to a conclusion. "Vegan pizza. It's hard to find anything better than a well-made vegan pizza." The diva answered cheerfully, and Santana tried not to show her disappointment that Rachel hadn't provided hints on ingredients. She'd find out one day, at least knowing that she still enjoyed pizza was something she could work with. She just had to figure out how one could make pizza without cheese. "So…how long have you known Brittany and Quinn for?"

The question kind of came out of left field, but Santana figured it would e easy enough to answer. She didn't need to give specifics. "Britt since kindergarten, we met on a teeter-totter. And I met Quinn at the start of seventh grade…we had some things in common, and she was new, she needed friends." She answered, not really wanting to give away how she met Lucy in seventh grade, and Quinn came around in freshman year at McKinley. The blonde probably wouldn't have enjoyed having her past spilled to Rachel of all people. "Have you…ever been harassed because you had gay dads?" she asked, feeling morbidly curious. She was under no illusion that Rachel had lived free of it, she just hoped she'd find out to what extent it was. As silly of a dream as it was, she kind of wanted to get married and have kids still, and wanted to have an idea of what she, her future wife, and their potential child would be in store for.

"We tend to order in for a reason. When I was younger, my parents would occasionally, to celebrate my birthday or winning a singing competition, take me out to eat. And a lot of the times we'd have to leave early, or we'd have to find a new restaurant because they wouldn't seat us. Fast food wasn't really ever an option, because I was vegan and they wanted me to feel special. They wanted something special for me, and Lima didn't want us around. So we eventually started ordering in more after daddy's car was vandalized during a grocery run." Rachel noted softly, scooting closer to Santana as she spoke, the taller girl easily taking the unspoken request by closing the distance and wrapping an arm around her. She understood it'd be hard for Rachel, she'd heard all the gossip and stories, all the insults and empty threats from her relatives and neighbours. She felt fortunate that her parents had been quietly supportive, though she figured her mom would will her to be silent about it if she ever came out. At least until she left Lima. Her mother would worry too much. "I've heard all the names. Fagspawn. Dyke-in-waiting. Demon-child. When we moved here to Lima, our next door neighbor called the cops on my dads when they found out I lived with them. They…they thought that the police would take me away to a better home, maybe, or maybe they thought I wasn't their daughter and they were molesting me. I'm not sure. But I've endured it…it was a lot harder in elementary. With class sizes larger in high school, and with me at the bottom of the social pyramid, people pay less attention to me, and I generally just get homophobic undertones with most insults and slushies. It's…I can deal with it. I just wish it was easier."

Santana squeezed the girl a bit tighter as Rachel's soft, barely audible last words slipped from her mouth. She willed back the tears in her eyes and just held the smaller girl, needing to express her regret, her horror, her anger, her sadness, at least until her mind could formulate the words she wanted to say. It was a relief when Rachel leaned into the embrace; she'd hoped Rachel wouldn't feel awkward about it or anything. "Christ, Rachel, I…I hope you never…" Santana cursed at herself internally, immediately forgetting the words she'd thought up as soon as she'd opened her mouth. "I would never say anything like that, I never…I didn't ever do any of what I did because your dads were gay. That's fucking A-okay in my books."

Rachel just nodded and, giving Santana a gentle squeeze, separated herself from the hug. "I know you told me why you bullied people, but…why did you start doing what you do? Why did you need to be so mean?"

Santana sighed and nodded solemnly. "I deserve that." She spoke quietly, taking the time to figure out how to explain it, trying to get into the mid of her seventh grade self. "Ever since the start of seventh grade…well, I was angry and pissed off, for a lot of reasons. But one was that people kept making fun of me for being a 'beaner', 'wetback', and all that other shit. They'd make fun of my dad. They'd tell me to go back to Mexico, even though I was fucking born in Lima, and my parents were born in Chicago. And I'm not even full-blooded Mexican, anyway. But yeah, I was taunted for that, some other stuff, and for being Britt's friend…Britt was bullied really badly in elementary…so I kind of let myself get angry for once. I'd tried being nice for a long time, avoiding people, asking teachers to step in…it's how my dad taught me to be. Nothing ever helped, so I got angry. I beat people up, and that got them to stay away and keep quiet. Quinn always saw through it, so did Britt to a degree, and that was all that mattered to me…so when that rep grew and got added to me being a cheerleader freshman year, I figured it was working. I'd take out my anger on people, and my friends would be safer."

Rachel seemed to accept her answer with a slow nod, her thoughtful expression telling Santana to wait for a follow-up. She'd allow it, no matter the rules of the game. Rachel deserved one. "And you didn't care who you hurt along the way…but eventually you did…you stopped, right? We started getting slushied a lot less just before regionals in sophomore year."

Santana shrugged, figuring that Rachel would key in on how she'd changed after being in glee for a while. "I meant what I said when we sang to Schue. I used to hate you all, just because you weren't Britt or Quinn. But we liked glee, and…well, me, Q and B decided to stop doling out slushies then, especially after the support Quinn had been getting, and how welcoming everyone had been with Britt." Santana added, smiling fondly at seeing people other than her and Q being genuinely nice to her best friend. It was a nice change from how elementary had gone. "And hey, we got a chance to see that the tiny, weirdly dressed girl who never reacted to our insults and slushies was kind of badass."

She watched as Rachel fell onto her back, unable to control her laughter, though Santana thought the title was fitting. "No, seriously, it fits." Santana asserted as Rachel started to calm down, sending a scoff the cheerleader's way for her statement, apparently. "Look, you don't give a shit about what a lot of people say, and when you do, you don't let it show. You act like nothing can freaking hurt you so much of the time, and that's really badass. A lot of people find it intimidating. AND, you freaking go for the jugular in competitions and when you're hunting for solos. Sure, it gets freaking annoying sometimes, but you demand that I respect your drive and talent. So that's why I started bullying how I did, and why I kind of partially stopped."

Rachel, however, didn't seem entirely sold with her explanation. "You explained why you started bullying, but you didn't explain why you stopped, or at least you didn't detail it."

"Well, not that it was part of your question, but I'll bite anyway. Look, I saw how it affected you guys in glee. I saw it first hand, I heard people talk about it, how they felt about it, and…it kind of reminded me a little of how it used to be for me. And I really liked glee club, I wasn't lying when I said it was the best part of my day. And I like hearing you sing and all, and I like singing and dancing and getting to goof off and everything. Why would I put that at risk? I wouldn't, and so I stopped." Santana finished, earning a shy smile from Rachel, who was staring at her intently.

"You really like my singing?" the diva asked, and Santana really kind of didn't want to answer that question, and thankfully it wasn't Rachel's turn.

"Not your turn to ask, Rach." she answered with a cheeky wink, which seemed to only disappoint Rachel, but the pink blush on the girl's cheeks let her know that at least her compliment was festering in the diva's mind still. "Why'd you stop posting videos online?"

Rachel's gaze snapped up to hers in surprise, and the girl fumbled for an answer for a moment. "Oh, um…well, Quinn…Quinn was the only one who ever commented." Rachel noted as she looked at Santana as if she stared hard enough, she'd be provided with some answer to whatever question was circulating in her mind. And if it was whether Santana had watched her videos, the answer would be a resounding yes; sure, she'd made fun of Rachel's facial expressions and fashion here and there, but she'd usually been the only one of the Cheerios to acknowledge openly that Berry had some killer pipes. She kind of missed the weekly postings. "Are…are you and Brittany dating?"

And yet again, Santana was caught completely off guard by one of Rachel's questions. Briefly, she considered passing on it, but Rachel was looking kind of really hopeful for an answer, and she really didn't want to listen to three straight Barbra songs, not if they'd have a rental car and have equal opportunity with the in-car music on the trip home. She knew she was probably really pale, and she could feel her hands kind of clamming up a bit, but she hadn't really talked to anyone in a long time about it all, and some of her outbursts with Rachel had left her feeling relieved and lighter, so Santana figured she'd take a chance."No. I…no. Britt chose Artie." She noted quietly, not feeling like she had to include 'over me' to the end of her sentence. It was pretty clear. "We haven't been all that close since, I guess. We used to have movie marathons every Saturday once we finished with Britt's favourite cartoons. It's been a few months. It's at least made me understand that she's never really been mine. I never really had a chance."

Santana eyed Rachel curiously, but the only visible emotion she could discern was that she was upset, judging by her furrowed brow. "That's not very nice." She heard Rachel speak, and she nearly had to do a double take at the low tone, bubbling with an undertone of anger. Santana really never thought Rachel had that in her, and she couldn't help but be both impressed and kind of thankful that she'd managed to elicit it. "He…he has no right to control who she can and can't hang out with, just because he's dating her. Finn, he…it's not a healthy trait of a relationship. He should trust her." Rachel finished, schooling her features as she seemingly avoided going on a rant about the giant man-baby.

"Hey, Britt's happy and isn't complaining, so that's all that matters." She spoke, hoping she was doing well in her attempt to hide that it kind of really sucked that Britt barely spent any time with her, unless she was tutoring the blonde, or they were at Cheerios' practice.

"It obviously matters, because it isn't making you happy. Friends make time for friends." Rachel noted softly, and Santana could only shrug and avert her gaze. She was right. She was right, and it hurt, because she'd been friends with Britt since they were in kindergarten, they were attached at the hip since first grade, and then this wheelchair bound robot comes around, and Britt just vanishes. Just like that. She didn't want to be bitter; Britt was happier with him than she was with her for some reason. She knew she could have treated her better at times, she made mistakes, but at least she didn't treat Britt like a child, something Artie did often enough to make her want to strangle the idiot. But Britt wouldn't like that, and she let Artie distance them, and apparently her missing her best friend wasn't ever a good enough reason for the blonde to ditch Artie for even one weekend. It had been nineteen weeks since she'd spent quality time together with Britt on the weekend; they'd visited the duck pond early one Sunday morning, and Santana had brought them both blueberry waffles to eat, and some bread to feed the ducks with. But Britt had needed to leave early for a dance lesson, and was planning on spending the rest of the day with Artie. She'd stopped seriously pining over their old traditions that had been cast aside, but it didn't stop her from missing her best friend. Locking pinkies during their minute long commute to classes just wasn't enough for her.

"You know…" she heard Rachel speak, breaking her from her rather depressing and nostalgic series of thoughts. "If…I mean, if you ever wanted company, I'd happy to join in on a movie marathon once my vocal lessons were over for the day."

Santana had to use all of her willpower to suppress the bright smile full of thanks and hope that her heart wanted to express, allowing a simple small smile in its stead. She didn't want to seem TOO eager, alright? She was just really lonely. Her best friends had chosen to drive in a different car without her, and maybe hadn't thought to invite her or work her into their plans on the way up, so she'd been saddled with Berry. It had really sucked at the time, even if it seemed to be turning out well in the end. Santana had spent the last three free weekends utterly alone, and it had been nigh unbearable. Even Quinn would usually pop by for a bit, or they'd meet at the Lima Bean for a few minutes, and that would be enough, but the last few weekends had been soul-crushingly void of her favourite duo, and it made her worry whether the summer break would be a much, much longer version of that. Santana loved her friends, she loved the idea of them having their own busy lives, but she really missed them. It seemed pretty freaking understandable to feel like that, but she really hoped it wasn't a one-way thing. "I'll definitely think about it." Santana said warmly, relishing in the notion of someone wanting to spend a good chunk of time together with her again.

Deciding that she'd thought and talked enough about herself, she decided to jump into the deep end again. "So, now that you've asked that, it's only fair I ask if you and Finnept are conjoined at the hip after that disastrously hideous nationals-destroying kiss." She noted, unable to keep all of the annoyance out of her voice; she just didn't like Finn. The guy was a klutz, and whenever he screwed up, he'd be forgiven so easily by everyone, and he'd always twist it into being someone else's fault. Usually hers, but sometimes he'd blame Rachel, which always surprised and aggravated her. Not cool to throw your girlfriend under the bus all the time.

"The relationship between Finn and myself is…complicated." Rachel said, blushing a little bit, which was understandable given her ill-advised attraction to the jolly green giant. "New York City changed my mind on a lot of my plans. I used to be entirely committed to getting back together with Finn, but…"

After a few moments of silence after Rachel trailed off, Santana nudged the girl with her foot. "But what?"

"Finn's aspirations don't really match my own, and I've begun doubting that he could keep up, or that he would even want to. He has his dreams, and if he follows them, they'll lead him away from me, and while I'm certain I'm mature enough to handle being in a long distance relationship, I don't believe Finn would be so committed. I'm not sure anymore that we're made to be…and maybe Quinn was right about me." Rachel noted sadly, and Santana's ears perked up, wondering what exactly Blondie had said to Rachel.

"Look, Rachel…I used to think me and Britt would be forever, that we were meant to be. But…after a while, I came to the really hard truth that we were better as friends. And whatever Quinn said…look, she's really fucking smart, and her advice is usually pretty spot on, but she gets angry really easily like me, and she usually says things she doesn't honestly mean. Well, she means them at the time because she's lashing out and wants to hurt who she's saying that shit to, but she never really means it. So just…focus on the underlying message, not the insults, because I taught her fucking well, and she's a lot meaner with them than I am." Santana tried explaining, earning a sad smile from Rachel, who just sat back and played with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Finn's kind of always supported me…he was my first real friend in high school. That…that means something to me. I just don't know if he fits into my future anymore. And that's what Quinn was telling me, that I don't belong here. Not Michigan, because I don't belong here either, but Lima. That I've been making a mistake by trying to get back with him, even though it's never worked out between us. That she'll end up with him and be stuck in Lima while I go to Broadway. It took until New York to realize she…she was probably right, that she was just trying to set me free, but it hurts. I wanted to have someone, is that so wrong? Am I really living in a schoolgirl fantasy of life, just wanting to be loved by someone? Is it so wrong to want a happy ending?"

Santana found herself surprised that her 'wanky' instinctive response was suppressed after Rachel's final bit of her rant; the diva just seemed too crestfallen to not handle gently. It was clear that this was Rachel, fully open and vulnerable, trusting Santana not to hurt her. Not to belittle her or tease her, not to make light of her situation or feelings. In truth, none of that really came to mind. She just wanted Rachel to be happy, secure in herself, and secure in knowing she wasn't wrong.

"It's not wrong at all to want to be loved. To want to have someone who cares if you come home at night. And it's okay to try to love, to make mistakes when you're doing your damnedest to make something work when it's destined for failure. Not everyone fits together, Rachel, but so long as you try…you'll find that person. And you're trying. And maybe Finn's not the right answer for you, and you have to adjust all the crazy plans you've made up until your twenty fifth birthday, that's okay. Sometimes, even if you plan everything to the finest detail, something unexpected happens, and your plan's turned right side up. But if you adapt like the crazy talented actress and diva that you are, you'll be fine…and you WILL be fine, Rachel. You're just not going to fall into some happy ending, alright? You're probably going to have to work really hard for it, and you'll get one when you find someone willing to work just as hard as you, WITH you, towards that." Santana spoke, not caring to filter the words spilling from her heart and out her mouth. They weren't her words anyway, or at least half of them weren't; her father had spoken them when she'd asked if her mom would find someone new after he passed on. Sure, she changed some of the words around, and added her own bit of jaded-yet-hopeless romantic wisdom to the mix, but the message was still the same. Her father knew his shit. It's why she missed him so much, and why she felt at home out in the wild, considering all the hikes he took her on as a kid. "You'll find someone. There's too much love in the world for that not to happen, even if everyone's doing their freaking best to hide it away. Just aim high, alright? Get someone better than Finn, someone who respects you enough to listen to you, at the very least, and not treat the 'chase' period as the most valuable part of being with you. Someone who understands that you want things too much, and doesn't try to change that about you…and doesn't want to. Promise me that."

Santana wasn't sure how she'd managed to speak so much while staring directly at Rachel, her gaze willing the girl to look at her, even if just for a second in acknowledgement, but Rachel kept her eyes downcast at her lap. Cursing at herself internally for perhaps crossing a line, she noticed it had gotten quite dark outside, and that it was probably a good time to pack it in from the stifled yawn she heard from the small diva. Reluctantly, she prepped her pillow and unzipped her sleeping bag, sliding into its cozy interior. Her body immediately relaxed, even if her mind couldn't; she just hoped her mistake wouldn't haunt her for too long. She wanted to be awake the next day when she got into town, after all.

She wriggled around a bit, trying to get comfy, before stretching her arm out to reach for the lantern, her eyes daring to glance in Rachel's direction to see if the diva was alright with it. She was met with the girl's characteristically soft, soul-rending cocoa eyes, full of emotion that Santana couldn't quite decipher. "Santana?" she heard Rachel ask, and she cursed internally at herself again for probably staring at Rachel for too long. _Nothing like being a big creeper after giving out unwanted romantic advice._ Feeling entirely embarrassed, she quickly flicked off the lantern, and moved to retract her arm, but Rachel's hand popped out of nowhere and caught her by the wrist.

Santana once again turned her gaze to Rachel, and could tell Rachel was nervous and definitely uncomfortable about something. "Look Rach, I'm so sorry, I…." she started, but Rachel just tugged on her arm, dragged her and her sleeping bag slightly closer to the diva, who was looking at her with this strangely hopeful expression.

"Can you…like last night?" Rachel choked out anxiously, the diva's eyes constantly darting to random areas of the tent before jumping back to match her gaze.

Santana sat still for a moment as she watched Rachel's shy, hopeful smile fade. She didn't want it to. So she took her free hand and unzipped her sleeping bag on the side closest to Rachel. "You want me to hold you?" she asked plainly, needing a straight answer or else she was probably sure her insecurities would be back yet again in full force. Rachel just nodded, and Santana could hear Rachel slipping out of her sleeping bag, could see her moving to kneel beside her. "I…I figure if you want to vent some heat, you can just come in here with me and I'll leave that side open…so…you know…your leg and all." She stammered out, wishing she didn't sound like such a nervous idiot. Rachel didn't seem to mind though, and her heart melted as Berry crawled in with her, cuddling up with the diva's face against her chest this time instead of letting Santana spoon her. She was entirely pleased either way, just happy Rachel wanted to rest with her, that she wanted to reciprocate some innocent affection. Santana had missed that kind of thing. And honestly, she really liked it with Rachel; she liked her soft breaths on her collarbone, she liked how her warmth made the diva smile. She liked how her heart beat harder when she was near, and how tingly her skin would get, and how Rachel was so comfortable.

Santana wasn't at all ashamed that she cuddled closer to Rachel. So what if she's a cuddler? She was a badass cuddler. Which was totally why Rachel was nuzzling her collarbone just right.

"Thank you Santana." She heard Rachel mumble sleepily against her chest. She knew from experience that she was like a furnace, and both Britt and Quinn would never last much more than a minute in a similar position.

She didn't need or expect thanks from Berry, she was happy to oblige. But she kissed the girl's forehead in acknowledgement anyway, because she felt like it. "No problem, estrella." Santana whispered into Rachel's hair as she hugged the girl closer.

Rachel immediately nuzzled deeper against Santana's shoulder, and she could feel Berry's lips spread into a smile against her skin, which made her stomach do an Olympic-grade uneven bars routine. In short, it was kinda nice. "I like that nickname more than the others." Rachel noted with a tiny mewl of a yawn. Santana had to seriously wonder how the heck she didn't see how cute Rachel was until that weekend. Just as her mind started slipping into past hazy memories, looking for glimpses and hints of what she now knew, she heard Rachel call her name, so softly she barely registered it.

"Mmhmm?" she asked, not really awake enough to use full words anymore.

"I promise." Rachel whispered as the diva repositioned herself slightly, getting cozier against Santana. "What you asked before…I promise."

Santana could only smile, thankful she hadn't upset Rachel, and relieved that the girl understood she was worthy of much better people in the world than Finn Hudson. With all of her worries suddenly gone, she just rested her head against the top of Rachel's, gladly allowing sleep to take her.


	7. Chapter 7

Rachel could officially declare that the first time was not a fluke; when she woke Monday morning, bright and early, ready to face the day ahead of them and finally reach the town, her body really didn't want to. Much like the previous morning, her body more or less resisted waking up, and seemed to simply want to lay there, curled up against Santana's unfairly warm and comfy body. On Sunday morning, she'd succumbed to a second helping of snuggling and sleep, which although uncharacteristic of her, felt quite nice, and she was certain her body thanked her for the extra time recuperating. And it was honestly rather pleasant to find the answer to her question of what it would be like to wake in another person's arms; she hadn't been allowed with Finn, and she abstained mostly with Jesse, though the one time she did, she woke up with him on the opposite side of the bed. Armed with new knowledge, she smiled to herself, thinking that even if it would be a rarity in her life going forward, she'd look forward to waking up in such a manner.

It certainly didn't hurt that she felt safe with Santana, she supposed. Finn was always pushy for sex, as was Jesse, but having a willing friend who had no such ulterior motives was kind of lovely. It had just made for a nice, comfortable sleep; although she couldn't help but admit that when she woke and found herself with a face full of Santana's ample cleavage, she felt a little stirring in her gut. She'd always been able to appreciate the female form, and there were rare individuals she'd found herself physically attracted to in the past. That Santana was one couldn't honestly have been a shock to anyone, considering how highly regarded her beauty was. And it wasn't as if she felt her attraction would amount to anything, what with Santana being Santana, and Rachel being, well, herself.

So she'd laid there until Santana woke, basking in the taller girl's warmth, and it hadn't even been awkward when they had separated to get a fire started for breakfast. They had eaten quickly, cleaned up, and packed up so that they were on their way by about 6:30AM, the last day's hike being likely shorter, but across rougher terrain from what Santana had surmised. She trusted the girl's sense of direction implicitly, and if she said that they'd need to hike over the large ridge off in the distance, then they would do that; it beat walking around it. She'd decided to simply follow in the taller girl's footsteps the whole way, and let her mind wander off to consider the future implications of their weekend adventure.

Ultimately, she'd have to tell her parents about the car, and it would likely be written off by their insurance. That is, if there was enough proof that they had tried to avoid driving off the road. She hoped there would be; her parents had some money, but they weren't rich. Glee club would hopefully return for the last weeks of school, feeling more cohesive and friendly as a group. Perhaps, even they would be close enough to gather in the summer for movies or festivals. She knew that, on her part at least, she'd be much closer with Santana than she had been. _If Patti Lupone herself had approached me on Thursday and told me that over the span of a weekend, Santana Lopez would befriend me, protect me, hold me, cuddle me, and kiss me…even if not on the lips…I admittedly would have made a forty slide PowerPoint presentation complete with photographic evidence and memorized quotes from the cheerleader as proof that such a thing would have never happened…yet…it did. I honestly can't fathom how we will explain THAT to the members of glee…_

She knew it would be a trying experience, getting through to the rather thick-headed members of glee that friendships could blossom unexpectedly, but she'd do her best to ensure that they'd understand. Rachel, after all, was incredibly pleased with how the previous two days had gone, and how they had began a budding friendship built on mutual trust and honesty, a friendship which she was terribly excited to explore. She would not allow glee club to sabotage or question it. In truth, Rachel hadn't had many friends in her life; Finn was one, she imagined, and Kurt occasionally counted when he felt like being at least civil with her. Mercedes was more of an acquaintance who put up with her for Kurt's sake, so she wasn't certain if the other diva really counted. Tina was always nice, but was always busy and never around. But then there was Santana, arguably the person she thought herself least likely to befriend throughout her high school tenure. A girl that she had no idea could be so open and caring and, holy Barbra, affectionate. Even an hour into their final trek, it was difficult to contain her joy at the turn of events; she'd always envied Brittany for how she managed to get Santana out of her shell around her, and she was thrilled to be part of such an exclusive club. Sure, she worried about how Santana would be upon returning to school, but she really hoped she wouldn't lose touch with the Santana she'd gotten to know; the caring, conscientious, affectionate, independent, playfully snarky, courageous, protective, generally ambitious singer with a voice that happened to sound quite well alongside her own. And yes, she was gushing; she was simply excited and ecstatic, and if walking up a large hill with Santana meant that she could admire the girl's figure innocently, what harm was she doing?

She'd try to be a good friend to the cheerleader, even though she knew it would likely be difficult, now understanding that she'd likely add to the girl's self-imposed burden of protection. Rachel simply wasn't popular, and was still often a target at school, so she didn't imagine it would make things easier on Santana. If that meant spending more time outside of school with her, perhaps giving massages, or having movie marathons, learning to play videogames with her, practicing dance with her, or any other number of things, she would gladly do so. It would, though, be nice to be openly friends with her in senior year; junior year was too far gone for any visible progress to be noticed by the populace, but she hoped that senior year could be theirs for the taking. That they could speak freely, hug in public, have excursions together. Just as she started mentally cataloging and sorting all of the locales they could visit within an eighty mile radius from Lima, she felt a hand press firmly against her chest, stopping her previously blind forward progress.

Rachel's eyes focused, her mind out of her thoughts and on the situation at hand, and was met with the sight of Santana's back, the girl's left arm outstretched behind to keep Rachel still. Rachel's brow furrowed, wondering why they'd stopped, and why Santana wasn't looking at her.

"What's going on?" she asked curiously, smiling softly at Santana's protective stance in front of her. Santana had, through the course of their travels, often claimed to hear something, and had made such unscheduled stops before. It always just made her feel really warm and safe, to know the cheerleader was looking out for her.

"Stay still, stay calm, and trust me." She heard Santana whisper slowly in a disconcertingly even tone. Rachel's eye caught a glimmer of something to her right and a small glance made her aware that Santana's hatchet was out of its holster, despite them having cleared past much of the brush the previous day, the path ahead more rocky and filled with sparse tree growth than anything.

"Why?" she asked quietly, trying to keep calm under pressure; Rachel hated surprises. Especially wilderness surprises. There were simply too many things that could go wrong out there for her to possibly formulate lists and plan for.

"Promise me, Rachel. Be still and calm for me, estrella." She heard Santana whisper in the same even tone, prompting Rachel to cautiously peek past the taller girl's shoulder, her eyes widening at the sight before her.

There was so much blood. The last time she'd seen that much blood was in videos about slaughterhouses, and it was rather fitting considering the wolf that was laid by the mutilated deer carcass was feasting lazily on its entrails. It was a terribly unnerving sight, but what was more worrying was that the wolf was looking directly at the both of them, not breaking eye contact at all. She stifled a gasp and tried her best not to panic; she knew that this had been a possibility, but frankly, she knew next to nothing about wolves and their behavior. All she could think about was that horrible "The Grey" film that Finn had forced her to watch, and she truly wasn't in any condition, mentally or physically, to make dramatic escapes from a pack of territorial, ravenous wolves.

"Please don't toss me to the wolves, I haven't gotten any of my EGOTs yet, and I really want to sing again, but I fear if I do now it'll just get angry, and please don't leave me behind, I know you run faster than me, and…" Rachel started whispering at a breakneck pace, her nerves starting to get the better of her. She'd seen what happened in 'The Grey'. She didn't want to die. She had so much to live for, so much to accomplish!

"You're not going to die, Rachel. Wolves…usually run from people when they see us. This one's eating, so he probably won't leave, but we might be able to move past it." Santana said softly, her words and confident tone reassuring her greatly. "Can you reach in your bag slowly and give me the frying pan, without turning away from the wolf?"

Rachel nodded, although she knew Santana was too preoccupied to see it. Her hands moved quickly and more calmly than she had imagined they would, and soon she was placing the pan in Santana's free hand. "What if there are others?" she asked meekly, her eyes darting around the area; her peripheral vision had always been above average, trained so that she'd be more aware of the others sharing the stage with her.

"Wolves hunt in packs usually, and they usually eat together. This one's on its own, I guess." Santana said in the same tone, tilting her head slightly left and then slightly right. "Rachel, I need you to slowly back away, but don't turn your back to it. There's a tree behind you to the right, a few yards away. Walk backward as if you were walking to the five on a clock, alright? Maybe ten, twelve paces back."

Rachel considered Santana's request, figuring the girl knew better about how to handle such a situation, but she didn't understand the purpose of moving to a tree. "Why do I need to back away to the tree?" she openly wondered, hoping Santana wouldn't take it as a challenge, but simply a request for more information on the plan the cheerleader was forming.

"Because you used to climb the old oak tree every lunch period in elementary when you were in grade five. For three weeks, Brittany actually thought you were just pretending to be a monkey, and I always had to convince her not to join, because she gets scared when she makes it up there. Like a cat." Santana explained quickly, but calmly, her tone still dangerously even. "So get up there, alright?"

Rachel wondered just how much attention Santana had paid her across the years to know that, but she supposed the story made enough sense. It still didn't explain what purpose she would be performing. "I…I'm out of practice, and this isn't exactly a calm situation." She whispered, trying to keep her voice even.

"It's as calm as it needs to be, Rach. Please, do this for me." Santana noted softly, the slight pleading tone spurring her legs slowly backward. She desperately did her best to ignore the fact that as soon as she took a step, the wolf ambled up to all fours. Her panic meter immediately jumped two notches to a considerable eight as she saw Santana begin to try and make herself big and loud; the sharp clanging sound of the hatchet against the pan clashed against the sudden growling of the wolf ahead of them.

She had taken about six steps back when the wolf moved from the corpse, its gaze on Santana though its path was seemingly on an intercept with Rachel and her destination, the creature circling around the cheerleader's position. Rachel took another two steps, her hands clammy as she reached for her hatchet, her eyes locked on the furry beast with blood dripping from its snout. She spotted Santana slowly shift her position, trying to cut the wolf off as best she could as she mirrored its movement, still trying to scare the beast off to no avail.

At her eleventh step, her left heel came into contact with the tree, and Rachel wasn't quite sure what to do. The wolf clearly wasn't leaving them alone, and hiding up in a tree would do Santana little good, yet it could be safe for her. It was when she pivoted slightly to get in position to climb the tree that she spotted the wolf move from its previous course and take a sudden step toward Santana. Immediately, her body was moving, reacting to the threat as her hatchet flew from her hand, the wolf too focused on Santana to keep the flying object from violently embedding itself in the upper thigh of its rear leg.

The wolf howled in pain and its gaze was instantly upon her; Rachel's mind clicked in fast enough to get her hands and feet moving, propelling her up the tree in a heartbeat or two. The wolf was snarling now as it limped around, seemingly turned back to Santana who was still within its reach. She couldn't help but wonder if their previous injuries from the crash made them seem like available prey to the beast, but it didn't seem to matter with it slowly circling around Santana, advancing ever so slightly with each step as the cheerleader pivoted to match it.

Rachel was sure her lip was bleeding from how hard she was biting down on it. They were stuck in a forest with no help, no signal, and a wolf was stalking them. They were teenagers, in no condition for anything grueling, and Rachel really wished that God had a plan for them, because she really didn't want to go out like that. As the wolf circled closer to her tree, she could see it riddled with fleshy patches, surely scars from other battles it had been in, and her hatchet had caused the creature to limp on its hind leg. Truly, she'd been aiming for its neck, but its step forward was farther than Rachel had predicted it would be, and her nerves weren't entirely under control. She could only hope she'd done enough to help. She knew the animal was in pain, and she desperately wanted for its likely new-found aggression to be counteracted by the damage she'd caused. She knew wild animals acted out when hurt; her neighbor, Mr. Tomlin had a German shepherd when she was growing up, and one day it had been hit by a car. It had been the sweetest dog, but when they went up to Clancy, hoping to help it, the dog kept nipping and growling at them. Just like the wolf was growling at Santana. Only it was exponentially more vicious looking than Clancy.

Rachel just really wanted the wolf to go away, to give up, but knew it wouldn't. And she was stuck in a tree, while her newest friend once again put herself in danger for her. She wanted to yell at Santana for being an idiot, for foolishly putting herself at risk, for worrying her, but she knew it wouldn't help. And the warm feeling in her chest was likely a result of the girl's actions, and her own hopes that Santana would come out of it unharmed and safe.

Rachel watched the wolf avert from its side-stepping and take a more aggressive step forward, only catching Santana's movement out of her periphery. She hadn't even seen the hatchet leave the girl's hand, and there it was, embedded in the wolf's front right shoulder, a loud yelp escaping the beast's throat. She watched wide-eyed as Santana took her hunting knife out and bent her legs, lowering her center of gravity slightly, the wolf now slowly stalking directly toward the girl.

In a blink of an eye, the wolf leaped at Santana, a scream escaping her throat as she watched it collide with her friend, its head just short of Santana's as it barreled her over, the creature's jaws furiously attacking away at the girl beneath it. For about a span of three seconds, Rachel couldn't see anything but the wolf, couldn't hear anything but her own screaming. Then, as quick as it began, there was a loud, harsh yelp as it staggered off Santana, crumbling to the ground in a wheezing heap, its movements lazy and uncoordinated as it tried to stand, tried to move, before collapsing entirely a foot or two from the bloody girl.

She wasn't sure when she started climbing down the tree; perhaps it was when she'd seen the massive pool of blood and her friend laying on the ground, looking as if she were dying, her breathing heavy and labored. Her feet carried her quickly over to the shaking, blood-soaked girl, her hand wiping the tears from her eyes so she could see what she needed to do. What she had to do to keep her newest friend alive. Entirely thankful for having insisted on keeping the first aid supplies in her own pack since the previous day's blowout, she quickly pulled out all of her medical supplies, feeling she'd need everything and a bit of luck. There was just so much blood! Not being able to discern much of anything from the gore-covered girl, she promptly opened a bottle of water and emptied it on her, washing away the red of the wolf so she could see what she needed to bandage up.

A sob escaped her throat as she saw the gash on Santana's neck and the blood pulsing out of it, and she forced herself to keep strong when she saw the girl's forearm was torn open in a wide, deep wound. She ignored the scrapes and scratches across Santana's collarbone and jaw and quickly began work on her neck, doing her best to ignore the bleeding girl's senseless mumbles outside of feeling thankful Santana was still breathing and alive. If her fathers hadn't insisted on basic first aid training when she'd gone to Pennsylvania for a music theatre camp, she was pretty sure she would have been useless. She'd thank her fathers later if they got through it. She still didn't know what some of the medication was for, but she knew enough about the supplies to hopefully stop the bleeding enough that Santana could recover and finish up what she'd inevitably miss.

The next ten minutes were arguably the worst ten minutes in her life. Santana was coughing blood, writhing in pain underneath her as she worked, and Rachel had messed up six bandaging attempts. Her work wasn't pretty, it certainly wasn't efficient, especially her stitching, but she'd applied as many of their compress kits to her arm, and she'd kept a steady pressure on the girl's neck the entire time, and the bleeding seemed to have slowed considerably. She was under no illusion that it had stopped completely, but she hoped that it would soon enough. Deciding that she still had some supplies left, she began double-wrapping some of the bandages, just to keep more pressure, and to provide more protection. When she started cleaning Santana, the girl started to get entirely aggravated, which was a relief in a way to have some of the girl's personality come to the surface, but she couldn't help but be a little confused as to why she was avoiding Rachel's cloth. It was only when she'd realized Santana had been softly mumbling for a bit that she realized Santana's mouth was full of blood, and she probably couldn't breathe well lying flat on her back.

Feeling slightly frantic, she carefully tilted Santana's body to the side, doing her best to keep the girl's neck fully straight in order to not upset the bandages she'd applied, and Santana happily spit out a frightening amount of blood, letting out a choked cough directly after.

"Not gonna drink fucking wolf blood and get roped into Team Jacob or some shit." Santana noted weakly with a relieved grin. Rachel felt fresh tears blur her vision as she laughed, happy to have Santana back with her, happy that she was alive and maybe healthy enough to make jokes and make the trip back with her.

"H…how can you possibly make a…a joke at a t…time like this?" she choked out as her throat swelled with tears, trying to hold back the body wracking sobs as her mind caught up to the possibilities of what could have happened. She'd been so terrified, so worried for Santana, and it felt good to just let her emotions go free. her mind was everywhere, and it was all she could to just focus on the most basic of things.

"Fuck Liam Neeson." The cheerleader mumbled, her voice sounding a little stronger, and it only brought back memories of that horrible movie and how everyone was slaughtered. Rachel knew that it could have been Santana too. It could have been her had she stayed down, but Santana had sent her away. She didn't understand it, so she just cried harder, kneeling beside the heavily bandaged girl she'd thought was maybe dead when the wolf had staggered away.

A hand gently resting on her knee forced her to reluctantly open her eyes, Santana's deep brown eyes smiling back at her. "I'm glad you're okay."

"What were you THINKING?!" she heard explode from herself, her entire being too caught up in all of her emotions to censor herself. "I could have HELPED!"

Santana just looked at her sadly before closing her eyes tightly. "I…I was scared you'd get hurt." The girl whispered softly, swallowing visibly.

Those few soft words weren't what she expected. She'd expected to hear that she would have gotten in the way, that she would have gotten hurt, that she didn't think Rachel could have handled it. She didn't expect Santana to forgo any thoughts on her capabilities, and solely worry about her coming to harm. Rachel could understand. She was scared too, tremendously scared at the time, and she'd been equally worried in the same way for the cheerleader. "I almost had to watch you die." She whispered in response, feeling all of the anger rush out of her body, leaving the fear, the sadness, the relief behind.

"I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you got hurt. If you were in the hospital." Santana said quietly again, her voice a little hoarse and strangled. "I needed someone to haul both of our fine asses back to town."

Rachel shook her head, knowing Santana was trying to lighten the mood, but she just wasn't having it. "I don't care about that. I would have spent another week or two out here with you if it meant not going through that. I didn't want to lose you." She choked out, her mind flashing back to the attack again and again. Her mind was relentless, and she needed it to stop.

Santana started to sit up, groaning a bit from the movement, using her one good arm to help prop her up. Rachel's thoughts scattered as she saw Santana wincing in pain; she needed the girl in a better position than that. With as much care as she could muster, Rachel gently got her to her feet and enveloped her in a soft hug, which the taller girl gloriously melted into. "Never, estrella." Santana spoke with conviction, her cheek nuzzling against Rachel's affectionately. Rachel just held on, not wanting to let go quite yet. It was still early in the morning, they still had a long way to go, and she just wanted to pretend they were okay, just for a little bit.

Eventually, Santana's hushed assurances that they were okay turned into hushed requests to get going. Rachel knew Santana needed proper medical attention, so it was hard for her to deny the girl that, after all she'd done. She gently leaned the girl up against a nearby tree and began collecting the weapons that were stuck in the deceased wolf. She quickly grabbed the hatchets, deciding not to clean them off, figuring as gross as it was, that Santana would want trophies. The hunting knife lodged in the wolf's entirely torn open throat was a more gruesome task, and she honestly couldn't imagine how Santana had managed the composure to defend herself and slit the beast's throat at the same time. It just seemed crazy, but she'd escalate her letter of thanks to Sue into perhaps a letter and a gift. It seemed right.

When she turned back toward where she'd left her friend, she saw Santana smiling so happily, so openly at her, that she thought her heart would burst. Slowly, she approached the girl and crouched nearby, emptying Santana's backpack's supplies into her own, at least what they needed to keep. She couldn't find it in herself to overload her body and be too exhausted to do anything if they ran into any more trouble. Once she was done with her task, she got to her feet and found Santana pulling her backward, into her embrace.

"That toss of yours…it couldn't reach my neck because of it." Santana whispered softly, the faint brushing of her lips against her ear forcing her to stifle a shudder. "Thank you for following my lead."

Rachel felt the girl squeeze her a little tighter around the waist as she felt a kiss on her cheek. "And thanks for saving me."

Rachel just nodded dumbly as Santana helped her get the backpack on, and led her through the forest; the weak, limping girl still acting as her human compass as they slowly traversed toward their destination.

* * *

They'd had to abandon the trek over the large hill after a half hour of Santana struggling. It seemed that the wolf likely did some damage to the girl's leg when she fell backward, and that meant climbing rough terrain was out of the question. So they went around. It took longer, and they'd had to take breaks so Santana could rest, and Rachel could check the bandages, but as night began to fall, Rachel knew they'd made it around the natural obstacle and were closing in on the town. The slight evidence of light pollution in the twilight was evidence enough of that. It was a huge relief for her, knowing they'd be home soon, that Santana would be taken care of soon.

The taller girl seemed to be running out of energy as they trekked onward, making her thankful that they were so close. She felt like celebrating, even if it might not have been an appropriate time; however, when she recalled a promise Santana had made to her that first night, she couldn't pass up the opportunity.

"Santana?" she called out nervously, hoping the girl would be in the mood for what she had planned. "Do you remember what you promised me Friday night?"

The cheerleader couldn't turn her head to look at her, but she could tell that Santana's focus was on her completely. She could just sense it. "I made a lot of promises, Rach."

"You said I had permission to serenade you. To make it a real, unofficial glee outing, I had to sing a solo." Rachel reminded her, drawing a short, weak laugh from the girl.

"I did, didn't I?" Santana noted with amusement, biting her lip gently. "Well, serenade away."

Rachel smiled cheerfully at the prospect of singing; she'd desperately wanted to when they'd happened upon the wolf, and afterward she hadn't wanted to jinx their luck, but they seemed to be in the clear. "Well, initially I had planned on something from the Wizard of Oz, but as I've had time to reflect upon it, I thought that it would be appropriate to perform something more in line with your musical tastes." She explained, enjoying the slow amused smile on Santana's face.

"And what would that be, pray tell?" Santana asked hoarsely, though clearly interested.

"I was made aware that your favourite song is Alanis Morissette's 'You Oughta Know', and as I don't want to be predictable, I won't sing that, but rather another song from her extensive catalogue." She answered, drawing a slightly confused look from the other girl.

"You're telling me you know whole songs of hers off by heart." Santana asked, seeming entirely disbelieving that Rachel could do such a thing. Santana, of course, simply must have forgotten who the girl next to her was, and her devotion to music.

"I may have spent two months in freshman year going through an Alanis kick… but still, I do have an extensive repertoire of solos memorized, Santana. I'm full of surprises." She noted with false indignation. "And I do hope that you enjoy this one."

It was a song that she'd had playing off and on in her head since the previous night's chat. What Santana had said about Finn was scarily on point, and it made her do a lot of thinking about her aspirations. For the longest time, all that she focused on was that the line of people wanting to date her was painfully short or nonexistent, which had masked her from truly acknowledging what she deserved from such a person, how she'd want them to make her feel, and how she should feel either being committed to a partner, or while lacking one. She'd had such high aspirations when it came to her career, yet she had allowed her standards to dip to dangerously low levels simply because she was lonely, because she wanted comfort at any cost. And after a good amount of thinking, her mind had flashed back to the song she'd chosen, and it seemed to fit not only her situation, but also Santana's.

"That I would be good…even if I did nothing. That I would be good…even if I got the thumbs down. That I would be good…if I got and stayed sick. That I would be good…even if I gained ten pounds." She sang softly, allowing her memory of the gentle acoustic backing track to keep her pace. In truth, she'd never had the greatest self esteem for much of her life. The one thing keeping her afloat was her ability in musical theatre, and how it tied into her dream. It had taken a small scare in sophomore year to make her start to realize that she was pitting her entire self-worth on her voice, and it had taken a long time to come around to understanding that was wrong. She still struggled sometimes, but she knew that without her voice and Broadway, she'd still be worthy. Even if she lost her voice forever, she'd still be worthy. Even if she continued to struggle with her weight and got fatter, she'd still be worthy. She had to believe that there was always something worth loving if she lost everything that she felt that defined her, simply because she knew how she often couldn't help but omit parts of herself she should love, despite others hating them. Because even if she lost sight of it, others might not.

"That I would be fine…even if I went bankrupt. That I would be good…if I lost my hair and my youth. That I would be great…if I was no longer queen. That I would be grand…if I was not all knowing." She continued, her voice gaining in strength as she went. She was very much aware of feminine beauty standards; she'd had them thrust in her face as she was declared invalid and ugly for much of her youth. She felt differently, but she wasn't so pretty to believe she'd age well, and without that, her stage career could be painfully short, leaving her with little else to live off of. And if she failed in her goals, she'd have nothing to earn a living with. She could go from being understood, if begrudgingly, as the best singer in Ohio to not being noticed at all anymore, working as a cashier at a Wal-Mart or Kroger. Her plans in life could all go awry, leaving her in a position where she simply wouldn't know what to do or where to go, and that scared her. She hated surprises and being unprepared, and if she was a nobody under the poverty line, who would help? It worried her that no one would deem her worthy of help, of love, of friendship.

"That I would be loved, even when I numbed myself. That I would be good… even when I was overwhelmed. That I would be loved…even when I was fuming. That I would be good… even if I was clingy." She sang the last few powerfully, tossing every emotion she'd pushed aside in the past into her delivery, before dropping to a softer tone to finish the song off. "That I would be good, even if I lost sanity. That I would be good…whether with or without you." While she'd likely have been able to string Santana's experiences into the first two verses, the final one was the most relevant one of the three to the cheerleader. The girl was flawed, expressed her love in a strange way, closing herself off to all but a few that she seemed to latch onto. She constantly brought up inner walls to keep her emotions and thoughts from slipping out to the public, and she downplayed every incident of significance that could and should hurt her, seemingly in an attempt to will herself into believing it wouldn't hurt as bad if she pretended it didn't. She didn't like being vulnerable, and often seemed to become far more insecure and more easily damaged when she opened up.

As she recovered from the song, she glanced over at Santana, deep in thought. They walked forward, silently, for a number of minutes before the cheerleader broke the silence. "Why'd you choose that song?" the girl asked quietly.

"After nationals…and especially after last night…I realized that I do have some passion for Finn, but it's not linked to much aside from a need to not be alone, and to be appreciated. And Finn…he doesn't help me feel what the song brings up. I try to do it on my own…it's difficult, but I try…and sometimes I need help, and he'd often just undermine me." She explained, simplifying her reasons, and leaving out the perceived relation to Santana.

Santana hummed, seemingly in approval. "It's one of my favourite songs. I've…I've thought sometimes in the past that people would forget, you know? That even I'd stop believing. Sometimes I guess I did. I'd love to be able to be comfortable gaining ten pounds…Cheerios almost gave me an eating disorder, back when coach wanted me to be a flyer. I'm happy I eventually stood up and told her I couldn't anymore, but it's still hard not to count calories, you know?" Santana ranted quietly, her brow furrowed as she concentrated on what she was saying. "And seeing how people know me at school…without my looks, my sex appeal, my youth…what am I? What do I have left? Even if that was all just a show for popularity, my friends aren't exactly knocking down the door, telling me they still care or anything. And if they know me and don't want me all that much anymore, then how is it even worth getting through my thorny ass personality? Who would even make the effort, because I don't know how to stop anymore. If I do, I'll get trampled over. I'm not as strong as you, not like that."

Rachel listened patiently as Santana aired more of her insecurities; truthfully, it was never all that attractive to hear someone speaking down about herself. She understood this simply because she used to in elementary, and people told her so all the time, including her parents. People were supposed to be confident, and she knew that somewhere inside Santana, there was a confident girl trapped under a mountain of burdens. And if no one else was willing to show Santana that she could be good, that she could be loved despite all of that, then she would. "Honestly, after being in isolation with you all weekend long, it isn't all that hard to see past your sometimes hyper-aggressive exterior. And when you allow yourself to be open with people you feel are trustworthy…and you ARE very perceptive and a good judge of character, Santana…you must understand that it isn't always disastrous. I consider us friends. It wasn't difficult to get to that point, and I really enjoy being your friend. You're worth the effort, and people who refuse to try will be missing out on a surprisingly sweet girl."

Santana let out a chuckle that sounded a little bit happy, if surprised. "Santana Lopez is not sweet." The girl noted before breaking out into a light bout of laughter. Rachel hoped she wasn't just imagining things, as the lighting conditions were rather dim, but she could have sworn that Santana looked a little more at ease and relieved. And that made her smile. "Hey, it's starting to get dark, get out the torch for a bit, alright? We're pretty close, but I don't want to take any chances. Animals don't fuck with fire."

Rachel nodded and readied the object with some fluid, lighting the tip carefully. The warm, soft light was a nice change as they continued through the trees, Rachel trying to keep the chatting to a minimum to save Santana's strength, the cheerleader's strength clearly flagging. It was fifteen minutes later that they found the edge of the forest and stumbled onto the edge of someone's territory, the yard marked off with a shoddy looking wood fence that wouldn't keep nearly any animal out. Rachel could see a house off in the distance, perhaps a little less than two hundred metres away, and decided to prop Santana gently up against a fence-post so she could get help for the ailing girl. Realizing she'd likely have service, she reached for her phone and checked, only to be greeted by a single bar. _Good enough._

Careful to avoid splinters, she eased her way past the fence and into the property toward the home, only to be met by a series of loud, angry barks from up ahead. Freezing in place, her eyes tried to focus on the yard in front of her, and quickly spotted the two large mastiffs coming toward her. In most situations, she'd be scared out of her wits; the dogs were probably as large as she was, and there were two of them, it was dark, and if she called 9-1-1, she wouldn't be able to specify a location.

But she knew Santana was behind her, in need of blood and good doctors to help her, and she wasn't about to let her friend down. She'd stare down two dogs if she had to, because Santana was relying on HER now, and she needed to get it done. Using her superior breath control and vocal control, she yelled as loudly and powerfully as she could in the direction of the house, in an attempt to get their attention, while she pulled her hatchet out and held it in defense in front of her along with the torch; the dogs were reaching her now, slowing to a stalking pace as Rachel swung the torch around, keeping a short, safe distance between them. Both dogs were still barking wildly, but Rachel was thankful when the back porch light flicked on, and a silhouette appeared at the door. So she yelled again.

"IT WOULD BE VERY HOSPITABLE IF YOU CALLED YOUR DOGS OFF, I HAVE A FRIEND REQUIRING MEDICAL ATTENTION!" she yelled in his direction, and for a moment, she was happy that he was approaching, at least until she spotted the shotgun in his hands.

Slowly, she backed away toward Santana, who she was certain had her hunting knife ready if need be, but she really, really didn't want to have to involve the injured girl. She'd helped enough already, it was Rachel's turn now, and the man with the rifle wasn't answering her yelling, or calling his dogs off, or lowering the rifle that was currently aimed at her.

"SIR! My friend was attacked in the forest and needs medical attention immediately! If you do NOT call your dogs off, I cannot promise I won't bury my hatchet in their skulls if they try to attack her!" she yelled again, the man maybe twenty metres away now.

"Calm down and get off my property, and maybe then I'll listen." The man said, still aiming the shotgun at her, though she was pretty sure the adrenaline coursing through her veins was more or less rendering her immune to fear temporarily. She stepped backward to the fence, and wasn't surprised when she felt Santana quickly help her through it; the dogs bounded forward after her, one hopping through the fence, close enough so that Rachel was able to smack it hard on the face with the fiery torch and send it reeling with a loud whine.

"Call your darn dogs off, sir! We just need your address so that we can call the proper medical services!" Rachel growled at him, furious that the man wasn't being the least bit hospitable. It was just nearing quarter after eight, and there was no need to be so hostile.

"If there's blood, they ain't likely to stop." The man spoke evenly.

"Your dogs certainly look old enough to be trained properly! Now I DEMAND that you give us your home address, because my friend could die of blood loss and you would be a NEGLIGENT PARTY in her death for denying our FAIR and LEGAL REQUESTS for assistance! My father is a lawyer for Detroit's branch of the ACLU and it would be just as SIMPLE to destroy your life as it would be for you to give your ADDRESS! Now call off your BEASTS and say the few words we require so that we can all put this incident behind us!" she bluffed, hoping that even if the man might not be able to see reason, he could be scared by the threat of city-folk coming down on him. And while it wasn't quite honest to say Santana would die of blood loss, she was getting progressively weaker, and her bandages were nearly soaked through. She was losing blood for certain, and she was paler, but wasn't likely in critical condition from what she could understand.

The man lowered his shotgun slowly, and wrestled his dogs into a nearby tool shed as Rachel vibrated with anger and anxiety, the reality of what she'd done starting to kick in. It was only a minute before the man returned and mumbled out the information she needed, along with something about not hiking in his forest or whatever. Rachel really didn't care enough once he'd given her what she needed, letting her call 9-1-1. As she reached an operator, she felt Santana lean up against her, quickly calming her nerves and worries; she'd done well, and her friend would be safe now. Rachel quickly planted the torch in the ground as the relayed the information, and gently led her friend around to the front of the property, where they'd be easier to find, and further away from the dogs and the forest. She was really looking forward to chairs and couches and beds, but a shower and civilized shelter would suffice, something she hoped to have once Santana was admitted.

Once she'd ended the call, with hopefully an ambulance on the way, she just let the girl rest up against her, Santana obviously too tired to sit without hurting her leg. Rachel just wanted her friend to be better, to not be in pain anymore. So she held the girl's head steady, her hand giving as good of a one-handed scalp massage as she could manage as her other hand held the girl at the waist, keeping her standing as Santana's strength began to falter. She just hoped that help came soon.


	8. Chapter 8

Santana Lopez hated hospitals. A more accurate word was probably 'loathed', but whatever. She hated how they smelled of disinfectant and death, she hated the harsh fluorescent lighting that gave her headaches. She hated the white walls that made every room so empty-looking and void of life, as if they were new and weren't host to hundreds of injuries and deaths, as if worried, scared families hadn't sat down in those chairs they replaced every six months to reduce the wear and tear, to make people think that everything in the room was temporary. But it was all messed up. Those rooms held memories that couldn't be washed away, and no matter how white they repainted the walls, how new the bed-sheets and chairs were, and how much they tried to hide it, hurt lived in those small, suffocating spaces.

So fuck hospitals. Her dad was a doctor; he'd work seventy to eighty hours a week in those places, whether shift-work in Columbus or on call in Lima. He invested his life in his work, he was a good man trying to do good things, and it wore him down. She saw it over the years; she was never too young to see the sparkle vanish from her daddy's eyes, and no matter what she did to try and bring it back, it wouldn't. It was gone, lost somewhere in the halls of one of those fucking buildings. The sick thing was he always brought Santana hiking and everything because it started to become the only thing that made sense to him. It was the only way he coped with all the death, to go out where the circle of life just happened, things just died, and no one cared. Her dad was a good man, he just cared too much about too many people. It's a big reason why Santana never really wanted a lot of friends. She didn't want to lose that vital piece of herself like her father did.

And when her dad discovered that he had cancer, that was just the biggest fucking slap in the face. A doctor who operates on hearts gets surprise cancer and nothing can be done about it? If she'd ever believed in God, she stopped when her father was bed-ridden in Lima General. He'd just worked through it. No treatments, no exams, nothing. Santana and her mother had found out when he had weeks left, after he'd collapsed and fell down the stairs. He'd known for a year and a half that he was terminal and still went to work for those same fucking seventy to eighty hours a week, because all those other people's lives over in Columbus were more important than his own family's, and she hated him for it. But she couldn't stop loving him either, because her made her understand that sometimes people had to hurt so a lot more could be happy. It was simple logistics. It didn't have to make sense, it didn't have to be 'right', it just was how things were.

Hospitals reminded her of all of that; every bit of pain, every second of loss she felt at others' expenses, every reminder that her grief was never as important as other people's lives, because she could function without her father, at least physically, and that's generally all that people really cared about. Hospitals made people function again, or declared them dead; it was an easy binary with end results that it helped people digest. That, after all, was why she was laying in a bed, after having had some surgery done. They'd fixed up her body, or put things in place so her body would heal properly and be able to function again. The worry Rachel felt for her in that room when she visited an hour and forty minutes ago wouldn't easily be forgotten, because that didn't necessarily heal. There was nothing physical to fix, so it was the individual's problem to solve, usually alone. They didn't care about that, and when they pretended to, they'd send some pastor or whatever, because apparently the only way to fix the feelings and emotional damage someone's suffered is to be told that everything happens for a reason, that the person they lost went to a better place, and that there's some dude in the clouds who was powerful enough to stop it, but figured it was a strong enough trial to build their character. That it'll be dealt with and be all better when they, too, die. Santana wanted to feel alright while she lived, she'd hurt enough in life, and so had her friends. She wouldn't wait her whole life, or let them wait, to get better.

So Santana waited in her bed, scanning through old pointless text messages and missed call alerts, hoping Rachel would return soon, because that's all that mattered at the moment. Seeing Rachel healthy and happy would make her feel a little better, and since she already knew the diva had been seen to by the doctors, she was already feeling pretty nice. It let her know the pain was worth it. That the few people she cared about in the world would sleep safe and sound that night. She knew she wasn't like her father, she never had the capacity to care for everyone, because most of the time, people annoyed the hell out of her. Especially after he died. So she stuck with a few, and that way when she lost one, it would hurt badly, but it would be rare. And when her people got hurt, she'd get upset, but if she had anything to say about it, those would be rare too. The last time was Quinn giving birth, and the time before that was in seventh grade when Britt was beat up by some high-schoolers and had to spend a day and a half in Lima General. Both broke her heart, but at least with Britt, she was able to get her a big stuffed duck to cheer her up, lift her spirits. Quinn just needed to know she was still loved, that she wasn't broken or used goods, which was a bitch of a thing to prove to a person as insecure as her. But both were eventually okay where it counted, where hospitals couldn't help.

And Santana knew she would be too, soon enough. Her body would heal slower than her soul, for a lack of a better term. She just kind of really wanted Rachel to be in her room, but they didn't allow cell phones in there. So really, she just waited impatiently; when she last saw the girl, Rachel more or less was a blubbering mess, and had left quickly, saying she was going to call people. Strange as it was, she kind of really wanted to hear her determinedly make a slew of phone calls and go on adorably long-winded rants about the turmoil they'd gone through or whatever. Worse, Santana hadn't had the opportunity to thank her, tell her how proud of her she was, how badass the diva had been. All her life, she'd been the one protecting her friends; she protected Britt and Lucy from bullies, and she protected Quinn from usurpers who'd threaten to take her friend's spot as head cheerleader. She'd never really had anyone put themselves on the line for her before, and it was kind of really amazing to experience a five foot two diva scare away a six foot tall dude and two rabies-infested hellhounds. It was almost too insane to believe.

And then there was the song she sang, which just kind of reminded her of how much she'd lost herself, and even if Rachel never really went into detail on why she sang it, it was far too emotional of a performance for her to not have struggled the same way. Rachel had always been stronger than her emotionally, the girl flat out refused to let insults tear her down. Santana needed someone like that to help her get back on track. She needed her friend to help her. It was strange, and rare for such a thing, but it was true enough. She'd rarely ever needed anything from her friends except their time and their love, but she knew if she wanted to be alright after high school, she'd need some help.

Of course, she'd love being helped out of the backwater hospital she was stuck in, but apparently it was too much to ask for. So she waited in the disgustingly white, silent room until Rachel peeked her head in about an hour later, instantly curing her loneliness. She just needed someone by her side; she wasn't a big people person, but she liked being in other people's company. Especially in hospitals; when her dad still worked in one and she got injured, he'd never take the rest of his shift off. Sure, he'd take her as his patient sometimes, and stop in every hour or so for a minute. It was never as good as how she felt it would be if he'd just sat there with her the whole time. Her mother, Maribel, was a nice woman, just really weak-hearted and self-deprecating. Any time Santana got hurt, the woman would lock herself in her room with a bottle of tequila and drink herself to sleep, maybe cry herself to sleep. Her mother blamed herself for any bad thing that impacted their family, especially medical incidents like injuries, so it was always much too difficult for her to come visit her hurting daughter. Even when Santana needed her parents. Even when she just needed someone, no one ever stayed. _I wonder if it's sad that, outside of Sunday morning when Rach said all that shit to me, this time alone had been the most painful experience of the weekend…_ she mused to herself as she gave Rachel a giddy smile. _I mean, the wolf really sucked, and if we hadn't kind of hamstrung it, it probably would have torn my throat out, but… everything turned out fine. Rachel is safe, I'm alive, and everything's fine. I'll be at full health in a few months…it sucks that I probably won't be able to swim for a while, but I'll find something to do._

"Can I come in?" Rachel asked cautiously, a question that very likely could have been the stupidest she'd heard the girl ask in her entire life.

"Of course, you dork. Come here." Santana said, chuckling as she opened her arms; she knew for a fact that Rachel Berry would never turn down a friendly hug, and her stomach did a bit of a flip as the girl practically bounced over and into her arms. _This…this is just what I needed…_ she thought to herself as she smiled and held the other girl close. Sure, she MAY have held on for longer than most would deem appropriate, but whatever. She needed some contact, some affection, like any human being. Rachel was willing to give her some, which she was thankful for, given her bed-ridden state. _She smells really nice…_

Santana immediately gently ended the embrace and looked Rachel over, noticing her in a change of clothes. She'd been aware the girl had a spare change of clothing, but Rachel had opted not to use it all trip long; Santana had to admit, she looked really good, and she smelled really good. _She showered…lucky…_

"You smell like berries." Santana said with a wry smile, finding the girl's chosen scent delightfully amusing. "Get a hold of anyone important, Xena?"

Rachel laughed a little at the reference, even if she was clearly confused about it, before pulling Santana into another hug. So what if she melted into it? She deserved hugs, she fought off a wolf. She was a badass. "I called my fathers, and while they were adamant about coming here to pick me up, I insisted that it wasn't necessary. However, they have sent police to check out the car wreck, they're going to get back to me when they know more about it." Rachel rambled cheerfully as Santana paid rapt attention to when exactly the diva would need to take a breath. The girl's lungs were impressive, and even if her mind was slightly in the gutter, it was still something interesting to find out. "And I got a hold of Mr. Schuester…glee was actually about a half hour down the highway when they got the call. He had the whole club turn around and come here, so they should be here in a few minutes, I guess. And…I called Quinn and Brittany? I…I didn't get much of a response. Or any response. Quinn hung up the phone."

Santana laughed, knowing it was classic Quinn behaviour. "I bet you twenty dollars that Quinn's probably hysterical and will approach me like I'm some sort of ghost, and Britt will be openly weeping until she hugs me. I guarantee that's how it'll go." She noted confidently, trying not to laugh too hard because apparently she also had some bruised ribs from when the wolf hit her. But even if it hurt, it was good to laugh.

"So…what do you want to tell them when they get in?" Rachel asked, pulling away enough to look Santana in the eyes. She could tell Rachel was really hopeful that she'd be super friendly to her. She deserved that kind of treatment after their last leg of the trip, it was the least she could do for the badass diva.

"Well, we'll have to tell them about your vehicular gymnastics innovation…Sue Sylvester will at the very least be interested. She'll probably re-enact the triple axel you did during one of the performances, maybe for nationals in senior year." Santana deadpanned, earning a playful slap to the shoulder from the diva. "And of course I'll have to tell them we killed a wolf, too."

"You killed a wolf, I only helped a little." Rachel noted with confusion, her eyes challenging Santana to disagree. Whatever. If Rachel wanted her to take all the credit, that was cool. She knew how it really went down, and that was all that mattered.

"Alright, but you fought off two angry mastiffs and a friggin' shotgun wielding asshole. You get badass points too, Rachel, you were awesome back there." Santana said, her tone growing softer as she went, hoping Rachel would understand she wasn't joking, that she was serious. The girl's blush was all the answer she really needed to know she'd done her job; it was a light rosy tint, and Santana couldn't help but feel like every time she saw Rachel blush, the fonder she was of her. It was on one hand kind of scary for things to be happening so quickly like that, but Rachel Berry lived in a bubble of high-end dramatics, and she'd been caught in it all weekend long. It was inevitable, she supposed, even if it was kind of fruitless, the girl being entirely straight. It made sense; she'd once crushed on Lucy/Quinn, and she was straight. She'd fallen for Britt, who solved her bi-curiosity and decided she was straight. And Rachel was straight. _I have to stop feeling shit for straight girls…maybe I'll move to a lesbian colony…beh, it's okay, she'll just be a straight friend that I'm really close to or something…not like I'm going to fall for her like I did Britt, or even crush on her or whatever. She's Berry, and she's cool. Whatever…_ "You came through in the clutch when I needed you. I don't know if you understand what that means to me."

Rachel simply blushed harder and averted her gaze downward where she'd taken Santana's hands in her own, soft ones. Honestly, she couldn't understand how she'd ever called the diva 'man hands'; it was so, so inaccurate. Rachel had, like, the softest, most feminine hands, and they were smaller than her own at least. Sure, she'd apologized earlier in the weekend, but she felt she'd have to honestly show the girl that she and Quinn had been wrong. "You told me I'd never lose you…after you…you were attacked. I just…I couldn't let anything happen to you. Because…" Rachel took a steadying breath as she regained the composure that her words had quickly undermined. "Because you're not going to lose me either, Santana. And I needed to show you that this isn't a one way thing."

Santana could only smile admiringly at the sincerity in Rachel's words as she tried to write that moment into memory. She knew she probably would only rarely rely on Rachel again, but it was nice for someone to have stuck up for her with no hope of personal gain. It was nice, more than nice, and she was about to talk, to try and find words when the door to her room opened.

"Miss Lopez? There's a group of people in the waiting room who wish to see you. Is it alright to send some in?" a random nurse asked, the question breaking Santana out of her happy bubble with Rachel. Glee club was there.

"Ummm…can you give us like, ten more minutes, then send Brittany Pierce and Quinn Fabray in?" she asked cautiously, hoping the nurse would adhere to her request. The woman simply nodded her head and closed the door behind her.

Rachel immediately seemed to go into something of a minor meltdown, which truly confused her; there was no reason for a meltdown, it just kind of sucked that she'd likely have to see Finn, Zizes, Artie, and Puck. She really didn't feel like hearing anything they had to say, but she'd deal. More importantly, though, Rachel was freaking out, and she needed the girl to be calm and happy, because she was starting to worry.

"Rach, I need you to sit down on the bed here beside me, alright?" she asked, scooting over and making room for the diva, wincing a bit as her sprained leg painfully reminded her of her injury. Rachel seemed to almost be hyperventilating, but managed to do as she asked, cautiously sliding in right beside her, letting Santana's arm pull her closer by the waist. "Okay, just take deep breaths okay? Good. You're fine, I'm fine, and if any of the glee kids hassle you, I'll give them an old fashioned head-butt or something. Or call the nurse to kick them out, I guess, if you want a pacifist option. Whatever you prefer."

Rachel just took a minute or two to even out her breathing, Santana doing her best in her limited capacity to make the girl feel better. "What am I supposed to do with Quinn?" Rachel asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper as the diva's eyes locked onto the door ahead of them, as if the blondes would march in at any second.

"You're scared of what they'll be like." Santana stated, hoping Rachel would confirm her assumption. The diva just turned her head away slightly, which Santana frowned at; she wanted to see her face. "Hey, look at me, alright? Please, Rach?" she asked softly, her wish eventually granted as Rachel turned back toward her, looking entirely shy and anxious.

"Rachel Berry, would you like tips on handling Quinn Fabray? I'll even do it in point form, since you love lists so much." Santana said with an admittedly goofy grin, hoping to put the smaller girl at ease. Rachel stared back, still looking worried, but also slightly interested, as if she was about to reveal some ancient truth. "First off, Quinn is a huge bookworm. Seriously, she reads at home, like, nonstop. If you look in her purse, there is a library card. Never mention the library card, she'll strangle you."

Rachel gulped and nodded, her attention fully focused on Santana, which was a nice feeling; she didn't want her to be scared or nervous around her other friends, and she'd do her best to get them to get along. "And I guess the second part of that first point is that she will talk your ear off about Harry Potter and the Great Gatsby. She loves Harry Potter, but she hated the movies, so if you've seen those and raise a dissenting point about them, she'll be too riled up in her fury over the films to realize she's taking your side in something. And she HATES all the characters in Gatsby. Hates them all, so if you've read it, say something like how you hated having to read it because the characters were all terrible, but never insult the author, because she loves F. Scott Fitzgerald to bits. She just hates books where she can't like a single character. So if you can work anything like that casually and seamlessly into a conversation, you'll probably be her go-to literature rant person, because she hates having to go to me. I rile her up on purpose, and then bribe her with cake when she reaches peak fury. She's like, the funniest looking person when she's raging, but too busy eating cake to speak, and too angry at me to show she likes the cake." Santana explained, Rachel nodding at every detail, the gears in the diva's mind clearly working on building a strategy in approaching Quinn. "Second point is, and Quinn doesn't know that I know this, but she gets thirsty when she's sad. Usually craves lemonade too, so if they come in here and dog-pile me for a minute, check the hospital cafeteria to see if there's any lemonade, and bring us all lemonade. That way it won't seem suspicious, and if this place is like most hospitals I've been in, they have this organic stuff. Say something like 'Santana needs an appropriate amount of hydration and nutrients, and lemonade is a satisfactory beverage to ingest' or whatever you figure would be good. Honestly, that will get her in a better mood immediately, and you'll be doing me a favour."

Rachel nodded slowly, her lips curling somewhat at the ends into a smile, which Santana found relieving and a little cute. She was just happy the diva had her confidence back. "And thirdly, she's going to be a mess when she gets here. You need to let me speak, and let her speak, and only really talk when spoken to. She'll need to get everything out of her system right away, and she likes when people give her space. She'll be happy you had the courtesy to call her, and that you were out there to help me, and she'll show that after she airs all her shit out in the open, alright? So just weather Hurricane Quinn and you'll be fine, I promise."

Rachel nestled into her side momentarily, being entirely careful enough to not hurt her slightly bruised ribs while gently hugging her arm across Santana's body. "Thank you, I just get worried. Quinn's always kind of scared me." Rachel noted shyly, and Santana didn't need to see the diva's face to know she was blushing. "They'll be let in two minutes from now, should I go get drinks?"

"That would probably be for the best. Britt and Quinn probably wouldn't even notice you in time if you stayed here, and you'd probably get hurt." Santana nodded, planting a brief kiss to Rachel's crown as the girl started moving out of the bed. She was pretty aware that Rachel liked affection, so she didn't think twice about it, and the small smile on the girl's face let her know it was appreciated. Not like it was a kiss on the lips or anything.

Santana tried not to be sad when Rachel left, she tried to be more excited to see her two other friends, it was just that she was a little worried. If Artie followed Britt in, or if Britt waited until she and Artie could both come in, she'd probably flip her shit, and she didn't want that. She loved her friends dearly, they were her everything, but it was hard that the first time they'd legitimately be hanging out in weeks would be in a hospital bed. She didn't want them feeling guilty about anything, like they'd made some mistake for having lives. She didn't want apologies from them, even though she was sure she'd get them eventually. She didn't want them to be sorry, she just wanted them to be better. That was it, and she hoped they already knew that.

When the door finally opened, perhaps a bit too abruptly for the average person's liking, it was as if time stood still. As she'd predicted, Quinn was wide-eyed looking like she'd seen a ghost, even paler than her ivory white ass usually was, and her lower lip was trembling something fierce. Britt was classic Britt, weeping up a storm, one hand rubbing the heavy torrents of tears from her eyes. The both of them rushed in, Britt faster than Quinn as the dancer basically dove onto the bed and crushed Santana in a vice-like hug that had her wheezing for air and wincing in pain. Quinn quickly tapped Britt's shoulder, signaling for her to ease up a little, having noticed the darker girl was in pain; the short haired blonde hovered cautiously over to the headboard of the bed and looked down at Santana. She could see Quinn was really close to just openly sobbing, and Quinn hated showing her emotion like that, so Santana used her free hand to gesture her closer, knowing Quinn would appreciate her not being the instigator of affection. She'd always hated Russell Fabray for making her uncomfortable with that; Lucy had been a secret fan of hugs back in seventh grade, and while she'd rarely ask for them or really visibly show she liked them, the blonde took a lot of comfort in the act. So when Quinn cradled her head and cried into her hair, she just reached up and pulled Quinn as close as she could.

"Shh…I'm going to be okay, you goofballs." She whispered to them as both clutched onto her for dear life. She would have called it embarrassing and lame if she'd walked in on a random trio in the same position, but her friends needed it. Even if she was the physically injured person, she knew her friends were hurting more than she was, and they took precedence. "I'm sorry I scared you, girls. I'm really sorry."

Quinn just nodded slightly, her nose rubbing on the top of her head. She'd need a shower later to get the tears and snot out, but she already needed a shower anyway. Britt looked up from her position, spread out on top of Santana, and met her eyes just as Rachel silently crept into the room with a tray of bottled drinks. "Are you going to need a cast anywhere?" Britt asked quietly, her worried blue eyes piercing her own. She knew that casts were surprisingly tangible to the blonde, and that it helped her understand that something was hurt, and being protected, and that she could add her decorations for moral support.

"I'm not sure Britt. My left leg's sprained, so I might need a splint for a while. But if I don't need one, I promise you can give me facepaint and help with my leg's rehab, okay sweetheart?" she asked, earning a cheerful nod from her best friend, who was immediately in a better mood. Britt was always pretty easy like that; so long as she knew Santana would get better, and that she could help, Britt was all smiles. Quinn was much harder.

Removing her other arm from around Britt, she slowly turned onto her side and pulled Quinn closer to her into a slightly awkward hug, given their respective positions. "Quinn, thank you for getting preggers." She whispered, drawing something that sounded like both a sob and a laugh from the head cheerleader. "Seriously, just listen and don't slap me, alright? Sue put me through wilderness and combat training because you got knocked up." She spoke softly into the girl's ear, knowing Quinn needed some reassurance that nothing was her fault, that she helped in some sort of way.

Quinn hugged her tightly for a few moments before pulling away a little bit, enough for Santana to see the tissues Rachel had set up, which she gestured toward. The blonde quickly plucked one from its box and dabbed at her eyes, desperately trying to compose herself. "What…happened?" the girl asked, her voice strained and choked from her wealth of emotions.

"I got hurt, but I'm alright now. Rachel patched me up and got me here in time." Santana noted, figuring the girls didn't need the full story quite yet; that could wait for later, when emotions weren't running so high. It had been a while since she'd seen Quinn so upset, and she was pretty sure if she unleashed Hurricane Quinn, there would probably be fatalities."I'll tell you later, just…I want to just spend some time with my favourite girls." She noted happily, cheering internally when she caught the briefest flash of a smile on Quinn's lips. Her eyes strayed momentarily to Rachel, who looked a little downcast as she flickered her attention between the door and everyone piled around the hospital bed.

"That includes you, Rachel. Don't think you can plot a ten step escape plan all the way over there. Come here, and bring whatever the hell your vegan ass decided to buy, I'm thirsty and I know you can't drink all that." She noted playfully, hoping the brunette wouldn't take offense, and that she'd take the opportunity to be nice to Quinn.

Thankfully Rachel smiled that thousand watt smile and grabbed the tray of drinks, bringing it over to the bedside. "As you haven't had the same opportunity to re-hydrate traditionally as I have, and since you were lacking vital nutrients and natural sugars this weekend, I thought it would be proper to ingest some organically produced lemonade. It is, after all, close enough to summer, and this is a time for celebration." Rachel ranted happily, passing out the glass bottles of lemonade to everyone; Santana's having already been opened and equipped with a straw, which she felt was really thoughtful.

"Thanks, Rachel!" Brittany said as she guzzled her drink down as if it were some competition.

Quinn just gave a hesitant smirk to the brunette, which Santana felt was definitely better than nothing. "Yeah…thanks, Berry." The other blonde noted, taking a greedy sip from the drink, her smirk widening into a relieved grin momentarily. "But you WILL tell me what happened later, Santana."

Santana laughed lightly at her friend's persistence. "Of course, Quinn. I just apparently have to send in the clowns soon or whatever…I guess I have to deal with a full glee club looking for gossip about me after everything and all. I'll tell you later or something, but my meds are starting to make me kind of sleepy, and if I can have an excuse to fall asleep while Finn or Schue are blabbering, I'm going to take it." She remarked with a pleased smirk. "But I want to know how what we missed out on first…I'm sure you have stories."

* * *

Rachel woke to the sound of feet shuffling around her, and the muffled, tinny sounds of Billy Idol playing from someone's headphones nearby. She stretched her body across the oddly comfortable padded bench before sitting up and gathering her wits; she found herself in the waiting room, seated across from a sleeping Brittany, bringing back memories of the previous night.

The glee members were ravenous for information, especially Kurt and Mercedes who almost had to be escorted out after Santana repeatedly refused to give details. Both she and Santana had remained silent on the details to everyone, which had unsurprisingly irked some of the rest of them as well. Not that she didn't thank everyone graciously on Santana's behalf, it was only polite; it didn't hurt that she'd at least stated that the two of them would regale them with the tale in glee when they returned on Wednesday. Also unsurprisingly, she had to endure Finn's advances yet again, which she brushed aside quickly and concisely, telling him it simply hadn't been an appropriate time. It hadn't been appropriate when he'd tried to kiss her either, but luckily she was agile, and Santana's imaginatively violent threats had him backing off quickly. After enduring the trip, she'd come to the conclusion that Finn wasn't a good fit for her romantically, and she'd refrain from any such relations with him going forward. She deserved someone better.

Eventually, the majority of glee went on their way home, an hour or two later than planned, while Rachel , Santana, Brittany and Quinn remained behind. Quinn had really relaxed by the end of it, and seemed to be in a better mood; she even asked if Rachel would get her another lemonade, and had thanked her when she returned with it. Brittany had even hugged her a few times as they all sat around and talked in the small hospital room until Santana fell asleep. Afterward, Quinn had been insistent that she rent a car and drive them all home when Santana was released the next morning, and Rachel had forfeited the cot she'd planned on using, allowing Quinn a proper sleep as she would be the one driving the whole way back. It had been different, waking up in the waiting room; the bench had been softer than the forest floor their tent rested upon, but there was an utter lack of Santana.

Rachel felt more than a little foolish, clinging to her favourite moments of their weekend together; she should have understood that it wouldn't be a normal thing at all, that it would be a rare occurrence. It just wasn't the same, waking up without someone's arms around her; it had quickly become a moment of clarity, understanding why people would sleep in the same bed. As an only child, she loved the freedom to roll about in her bed, and she was an active sleeper usually, often splayed out across the bed in awkward ways when she woke. It was a freedom she'd never really understood was less important than the security one could feel by another adding their warmth, their touch, their presence. She missed Santana, and she was only just a few hours separated from her and down the hall. She couldn't imagine how Santana's parents felt, or at least how she thought they should have felt; Santana had called home that night shortly before the rest of glee visited her, and all the girl said afterward was that no one was coming. She wasn't sure whether to be infuriated or heartbroken , but the latter soon won over as she saw the girl fighting to conceal her disappointment. _Well, I suppose she at least has the three of us…maybe that's good enough…_

Rachel checked her phone and, seeing it was five after six in the morning, decided to be proactive. A good healthy breakfast was important, and while she was rather certain they wouldn't be able to find one in the hospital, she hoped that they could find one within an hour's drive. It was lovely to have Google back.

As she searched, she kept an eye on the time, knowing Santana would be discharged around eight; Quinn had left shortly after she'd woken up, offering a small wave on her way out to pick up the rental car. It was funny to see how well Santana knew her friends; she'd honestly never bet against the girl whenever it came down to predicting the blonde's behaviour. Rachel did wonder, though, exactly how many times Santana had been hospitalized, and how many times the two blondes had sat in hospital waiting rooms, wondering if their friend was okay. She hadn't even told them how Santana had gotten injured, and they'd been in tears; she'd ask the girl another time, perhaps.

The next few hours passed in a haze; Santana's mother had faxed her paperwork in, letting them discharge her daughter, Quinn had returned with the SUV she'd rented, and they'd managed to get Santana and her crutches into the vehicle by quarter after eight. Surprisingly, at least to Rachel, the other three voted to wait for breakfast until they found somewhere decent off the highway, so Rachel had endured the hour-long trek before they'd stopped at a cozy little diner.

The meds Santana took during the meal kicked in quickly, and much of the ride home had been silent leading up to the Michigan/Ohio border, outside of Britt giving Quinn directions every once in a while. It was kind of hard to believe that they were all going home; it had been her goal since the car crash, basically, and with all they'd gone through, it just seemed like this far off goal. Now that they were actually close, it felt both relieving and sad. It hadn't been the most conventional outing, or especially the safest, but she'd enjoyed her time with the snoozing girl beside her. She wouldn't get to see her as often when they returned to their regular lives.

"So…what exactly happened out there, Rachel?" she heard Quinn ask quietly, surprising Rachel as they were honestly the only words the blonde had spoken since they'd left the diner. "I…I'm sure Santana will exaggerate and maybe omit things when I ask her, so…if you could just tell me the truth, I'd really appreciate it."

Rachel sighed, feeling mixed emotions about giving a retelling of what happened. She wasn't quite certain she could do any of it justice, honestly, and she didn't want either of the girls in the front seats to worry. "You…if it's perfectly alright, I would feel much more comfortable if you pulled over." She requested softly, hoping the girl would understand why. Quinn gave a simple nod as she gently pulled the vehicle to the shoulder and rolled to a gentle stop, put the vehicle in park, tossed its four ways on, and shut it off.

"You probably remember the rainstorm on the way up…I'd ignored Santana's requests to get gas along the highway for a few hours, and eventually had to get off the highway and travel a few miles to a small, isolated gas station when I realized I would soon run out. On our way back, we were caught in a downpour…I'm not comfortable driving in such storms, and the road was a mess of potholes and broken asphalt. I hit a pothole and I suppose I panicked a little, and the car slid off the road and down a moderately large hill. Santana will tell you that the car did a triple axel, but I wouldn't believe her if I were you." She explained, adding that last bit in hopes of lightening the mood, but Quinn and Brittany just stared expressionless at her anyway. _Right then…_ "Anyway, Santana came to first, and gave us both first aid. We waited for the rain to stop before we went to the gas station…neither of us had any service, and we figured there would be a landline there. On the way, I saw a truck coming up the road and flagged it down. I…I was feeling desperate, I was scared of Santana, I was hurt, and I just wanted to either get to where you all were, or get home, and I wasn't thinking straight. I thought they were trustworthy. They weren't."

Rachel tried not to let her emotions get to the best of her as her memories of the event flashed through her mind; she'd been so scared and confused. "They…they tried to take us somewhere, and at least wanted the equipment we had. I didn't even know what was happening, I panicked when they attacked us and Santana fought them off with her hatchet…she hurt one of them and made them go away." Rachel said softly, trying not to feel guilty over Quinn's wide-eyed stare. She knew that she'd been the one to drive them off the road, she flagged the men down, she got them into the mess, and she knew Quinn would blame her. Rightfully so, even if Santana had been adamant that she hadn't been at fault. "We kept going toward the gas station, but the men in the truck…them and their friends came back and started looking for us, just as we were getting close. Santana said we could wait them out, or go to the town, and I felt the town was safer, even if it would take longer to get there. Which is why it took us so long to get a hold of you all. Santana led us deep into the forest and did her best to cover our tracks in case we were being followed. We didn't see them again, so they either didn't look harder, or she lost them."

Rachel swallowed, wondering how to explain much of the rest of their trip. A lot happened at the start and end, but much of the middle portion was simply bonding. "We…we mostly just traveled for much of the weekend, and got to know each other. Santana was so sweet…she always put my needs before her own, it was really kind of her."

Finally, Quinn's expression softened a little bit, a small wistful smile forming on her lips. "That's how San gets when she decides to actually help. She gets stubborn as hell, and there's no arguing with her on her plans or anything…I can't imagine that was easy for you."

Rachel shook her head and shrugged. "I…honestly, there weren't many times where I argued. She made it clear that she knew how to handle the situation better than I did, so I followed her lead. We rarely argued, and that was only when things got…emotional, I suppose." She stated, trying not to give too much details; she wanted to be honest, not entirely transparent.

"But you, like, argue all the time in glee." Britt noted confusedly, looking entirely bewildered at the thought of her remaining cooperative and quiet.

"I was just really scared and confused, and when I wasn't having minor panic attacks, Santana was keeping me off-balance. You know, jokes, absurd conversations…she distracted me to the point where I wasn't ever really able to think about anything too hard before she managed to ease my worries." Rachel explained, smiling as she recalled how affectionate Santana had been that first night. Quinn, however, raised her left eyebrow in amused suspicion.

"San's really good at distracting me when I'm sad or scared. Did you share a tent? Did she give you sweet lady kisses?" Brittany asked excitedly, and Rachel had to remember that the girl was much like her in that she had no filter, but she couldn't help but blush.

"We…we didn't do anything of the sort. I…um…I merely had some understandable insecurities about our situation, and Santana helped me through them." She stammered out nervously; she wasn't sure what she had to be nervous about, but the way Brittany and Quinn were staring at her made her feel like she was being interrogated by her fathers about the birds and the bees, albeit if one of her fathers was overly excited about the prospect.

"Such as?" Quinn asked, smirking as her eyes narrowed, clearly taking some enjoyment over how much of a squirming mess Rachel was at the moment.

"Wh…while Santana and I have come to share a bond as close friends, and I trust Santana completely, I'm not sure that trust automatically extends to you two." Rachel said, trying to sound full of conviction and confident, but she failed miserably. Quinn still scared the heck out of her, and she was looking at her as if she were a tasty meal or something.

Quinn unbuckled her seat-belt and reached her arm toward Rachel, her hand resting on her lower thigh. "Rachel…you're Santana's friend now. That means that if I were to ever hurt you, I'd be hurting Santana, and that's not going to happen. She hasn't made any friends since seventh grade, and while I kind of never saw her ever wanting you to be her friend, that's what happened, and I'm really happy for her. So if you make her happy, if she trusts you like I know she does, then that's all I need to trust you and think of you as a friend, okay? So just…keep going. Please." The blonde spoke softly, her hazel eyes peering right into Rachel's own brown ones reassuringly. She considered the logic for a few moments, and found it similar enough to how Santana was with Brittany, so she just nodded sheepishly, earning a smile from both blondes.

"It was my first night camping anywhere, and I was…terrified of bears attacking us, so Santana stayed awake while I slept. I felt horrible about it, and I ensured she made up for her lack of sleep the rest of Saturday, I promise." She spoke quickly at the end, hoping that her words would reassure the blondes that she hadn't caused Santana any harm willingly.

Brittany just gave her a goofy smile and bounced in her seat. "Awww, San does that all the time for me and Lord Tubbington when we watch horror movies. We're not allowed to watch them on Sundays, though, because she always needs sleep for Cheerios practice." Brittany noted happily, falling deep into thought about something as she finished speaking. Rachel smiled at the thought of Santana lovingly keeping watch on a bed with Brittany and her obese cat asleep and entirely under the covers; it was a sweet gesture, doing that despite knowing there was absolutely no threat.

"You two were out there from Friday night until Monday evening, though…that's three days, three nights." Quinn noted with another raised, questioning eyebrow. Rachel wished she had the muscle control in her eyebrows to do that. She felt it would add to her acting abilities, being able to add a little extra dramatic flair.

"Those were mostly spent traveling. We…we walked on Saturday. She taught me how to throw a hatchet that day…I'd walked off while she'd been napping and I guess that worried her a little when she woke up, so she thought it best that I know how to use such a tool." Rachel stated calmly, leaving out the part that she screamed bloody murder and Santana flipped out on her. "Sunday…I angered her tremendously by accident on Sunday morning and she basically death marched me into the ground until mid-afternoon when I got hurt and we…we aired our grievances, and came to an understanding. The rest of the day was much better…relaxing, even."

Quinn just nodded, giving her a strange knowing look, one which Rachel wasn't quite certain how to take. "And…Monday?"

Rachel let out a long breath of air, trying to calm herself. It was difficult to believe it had been over twenty four hours since the attack. "Monday morning, we were attacked by a wolf." She spoke, prompting Brittany to spin back around in her seat, hiding away, while all of the air was expelled from Quinn's body as the girl slumped forward a little.

"What?" Quinn choked out, her voice to quiet and strained, Rachel could barely hear it.

"We were walking and…she stopped me. I wasn't sure what was going on, but she told me to be really calm, which just made me nervous. When I saw it, it was big and I started freaking out, and she told me I had to walk backward and climb up a tree, but as soon as I did, it started coming toward us." She spoke, trying to simplify the story for the girls. She knew there wouldn't be any easy way to narrate the attack. "I made my way to the tree, but as soon as I did, it looked like it was about to lunge at Santana, so I…I threw my hatchet. I just reacted, and as soon as I saw it had hit it, I scurried up the tree. I…I was a coward."

She looked for some indication from either girl for her to continue, but Quinn's thousand yard stare was directed right through Santana, and Brittany was curled up in the front passenger seat, her arms hugging her knees against her chest. "The wolf just stalked after Santana, circling her. It started after her once, and Santana threw her hatchet at it like I did, but…well, it hit the wolf, but it lunged at her right after." Rachel spoke quietly, closing her eyes, trying to will away the images of the aftermath. "There was so much blood. It was on her for three, maybe four seconds, but there was just so much of it. She…she slit its throat wide open with her hunting knife while it bit and clawed at her. I climbed down when…when the wolf collapsed off of her, and I tried to just help her. It took ten minutes, and they were the most terrifying minutes of my entire life. Losing my voice was nothing…nothing when I saw her just lying there, on the ground. I still don't really know what to think about it, I'm not sure it's hit me yet, but… I'm just so happy that I was able to get her to town, through an altercation with a rather inhospitable homeowner, and to the hospital. That…that was Monday."

She wasn't sure when Quinn had left the front seat, but her door swung open and in a single motion Quinn undid her seat-belt and pulled Rachel out of the SUV and into a bone-crushing hug. They were both silent as cars whizzed past them a few metres away, Quinn clutching onto her tightly as Rachel just rubbed the other girl's back slowly. Eventually, she decided it was safe enough to speak. "Quinn…she's safe. She's in the car, you're taking her home…she's safe." Rachel whispered soothingly, hoping to reassure the girl. "The best thing you could do for her…is just be there for her. Tell her you want to have a movie marathon on Saturday, she'll be so happy."

"Movie night? But…she…she hasn't had one in months." Quinn mumbled sadly into Rachel's hair.

Rachel did her best to pull away enough to look Quinn in the face, knowing that she could very well get slapped, or just end up hurting Quinn more than she already was. "She's wanted to. I know it's not my place to say, but Santana won't, so…she misses you two so much. She's scared both of you don't care about her anymore, and she especially needs Brittany to spend some time with her again. If you don't talk to Artie about him not letting her see Santana, I will. The whole reason Santana went on this trip was because she was lonely and she wanted a friend to spend time with, and she thought if you two weren't willing, I was forgiving and nice enough to be a decent substitute."

"God…" Quinn breathed out, staring up at the sky in anguish. "I've…I haven't been trying to avoid her, I just…there's this new book series I found, and I didn't want to bore her, and I've been trying to patch things up with my mom and…she always promised me she was fine. Why didn't she tell me? She should have told me!"

Rachel gave Quinn a gentle squeeze around her waist, leaning into the girl in hopes she'd maybe feel better. "She thinks the world of you two. She…I get the distinct feeling that she doesn't think her needs are important so long as you two are happy, but you know better than I do why she wouldn't tell you. Just…I doubt she blames you two for anything, and I know she wouldn't want you feeling guilty, so just be there for her. Read those books in her room with her, maybe. Show that you want to spend some of your free time with her. Show her you care, because the only reason she ever gave me a chance this weekend was because she was scared that no one did. You have plenty of opportunities to re-connect with the summer coming up."

Quinn left the embrace and lazily staggered off to the driver's side of the SUV, leaning up against it for support. "Berry, you're going to have to drive the rest of the way. Let B stay in the back with Santana, she needs to be there right now." The blonde said, and Rachel had to wonder when exactly Brittany found her way to the backseat, where she was huddled up beside the sleeping girl.

"Sure." She noted softly, prompting Quinn to move to the passenger seat. Rachel got in and adjusted her seat before starting up the vehicle and pulling it back onto the highway. "I'm sorry if I upset either of you. I just…you asked for honesty, and you deserved it. I fully understand if I receive a slushie facial when I return to school as retribution, just please don't let it be strawberry."

"Berry, shut up." She heard Quinn protest beside her as the girl looked out the side window, her voice soft and slightly strained still. "You're not going to get slushied, and we're going to keep you safe at school. Just…how close did you and Santana get, anyway? How…how did you know all that?"

Rachel swallowed and gripped the wheel hard, focusing on the road as she formulated a plan of attack, so to speak. "She was nice to me all weekend. Literally unbelievably nice, at least up until Sunday morning. I…said some things that deeply upset her, because I thought she wasn't being genuine. She…more or less her temper flared and she corrected me during a rather lengthy, emotional outburst. It…I will admit it wasn't the only outburst I provoked that day. I learned that she was a vastly different person than I once thought her to be. That who she appeared to be all weekend was closer to who she was than who I saw at school."

"So what do you think about her now?" Quinn asked in the same tone, still staring out the window at the passing wilderness.

"She…Santana's a wonderful flawed person. I would say that maybe she cares too much about those closest to her, and too little about everyone else and herself. That said, I find it remarkable how much she can care for a person, and how easily she can make me feel happy and safe. I'd say that if ever I was in trouble, she would be the first person I'd call for help. I'd say that I want to help her through her insecurities, because she deserves to feel confident about her own future as much as she is about ours." Rachel answered, hoping her answer was satisfactory, considering she could list off dozens more things about the sleeping girl.

Quinn was quiet for a few minutes as they passed into Ohio, almost long enough for Rachel to feel confident that the conversation was over. Apparently, it just allowed Quinn to think up more questions. "She helped you that first night…did she stay awake for the others too?" Quinn asked; Rachel had to check that Brittany was sleeping before she felt comfortable giving her answer.

"No…she helped me with other things, but after the first night I trusted that I'd be safe from any wild animals." Rachel answered, not sure if she made it vague so that Quinn would move on, or so that Quinn would mill away at her for details. She kind of really wanted to talk about Santana, but she wasn't sure if it would be appropriate with the blonde next to her.

Quinn just laughed lightly, and turned her gaze toward Rachel. "You stayed in the same tent, so I'm going to guess that she cuddled with you." Rachel blushed at the girl's words, which just widened the smirk on Quinn's face. "It's okay. Santana's the most tactile person I know. Ever seen her and Britt at school? They used to almost always be touching in some way. Holding pinkies, holding hands, sitting shoulder to shoulder or thigh to thigh, playing footsie, and sometimes they'd rest their head on the other's shoulder. Britt was always cool with that, which is why she's such a good person for San to be around. It calms her, I guess. She's a big softie like that."

"It...I just…I have astraphobia, and on the second night, she helped me from having a panic attack, that's all. And…I asked her to hold me the next night, just to see if she'd be okay with it, and she let me, probably because she thought I'd be a zombie in the morning if she didn't. But…that's pretty much it." Rachel stammered out, trying to explain that Santana wasn't like Brittany with her, she certainly wasn't. She knew what the two of them had gotten into before, and even loosely linking her to such things with Santana made her feel like she had to explain the behavior away.

"Look, Rachel. She fought off a bunch of dudes for you. She fought off a wolf to keep you safe. She held you when you were scared. I'd say that it wouldn't be a stretch to think she looks at you differently than she used to, alright?" Quinn noted softly, patting one of Rachel's hands on the wheel. "And it's either 'it' or you still have more details, and I'm pretty sure there's more, and I want to hear it. We have an hour to go until Lima, and I can tell you want to ramble on about something."

Rachel really, really didn't know if she could trust Quinn, but outside of her fathers, she had no one to talk to, and she really wanted a girl her age to talk to; Santana seemed like a good listener, but she wasn't sure she could talk to Santana ABOUT Santana. So she took a risk, with a little bit of tactics. "She was sincere. She…complimented me when there was nothing in it for her. She helped me when there was nothing for her to gain. She convinced me that you were partially right about Finn…that I didn't belong with him…but also that neither did you. She…she…if I weren't straight, I'm pretty sure I'd have a huge crush on her." And it was true. Rachel's heart beat faster around Santana, her heart did flips, and her stomach got all funny. She wanted to be near her all the time, and was a bit morose when they were apart. She'd find herself smiling inexplicably sometimes when she'd catch herself staring at the cheerleader, and on top of wholly appreciating the girl's breath-taking beauty, Santana made her feel things. She was straight, though, so it couldn't be a real crush, but perhaps a friend sort of crush. Even if she'd never heard of such a thing in its existence, it had to be true. She'd Google it sometime.

"She made you feel special." Quinn noted thoughtfully, a small smile on her face as she seemed to consider something for a few moments. "Did she kiss you?"

If Rachel had been drinking anything at that moment, it would have made for a gloriously high quality spit take. Instead, she felt her head throbbing from all the blood rushing to her face, and her eyes went wide from shock over Quinn not pulling any punches. "She…only on the forehead…and cheek…and the top of my head, maybe? Maybe the neck too, but that could have just been her face making accidental contact when she was holding me." she answered nervously as Quinn's hazel eyes bore into her skull.

"And did you kiss her back after she got hurt?" Quinn asked quickly, likely believing her speed of delivery would hide the emotion in her voice from that last word. Rachel shook her head, unable to answer, though she felt it was a good question. Santana had been casual with her affection, so maybe it wouldn't have been bad to return some. "No? It would have been appropriate. She would have really liked it. Just saying."

"I…I thought if I did anything, it'd scare her off. I didn't want to lose her as a friend." Rachel noted sadly, feeling kind of silly now that she'd heard all about how Santana was quite willingly touchy-feely.

Quinn just chuckled lightly. "Rachel, if you're alone with her, or it's just us, she's always free game." The girl noted, nudging Rachel playfully, which more or less helped cheer her up. While she couldn't say she was close friends with Quinn Fabray, she was starting to get more comfortable with her.

"I'll take that into consideration, Quinn, thank you. One other thing I wish was free game this year were the books we were assigned to read in English. I honestly cannot wait for AP English next year so that I can choose a book that has at least one likeable character." Rachel stated with conviction, smiling internally as she could see the fire light in Quinn's eyes out of her periphery.

"I KNOW! Were you assigned The Great Gatsby too? I swear, the author's wonderful, but is it really worth reading a novel where every character has a regrettable personality and existence?" Quinn started, quickly spiraling into a wild rant on literature, and the importance of connecting with an audience, not just making a thematic or conceptual point. Rachel mostly listened, adding in a few words about authors and books she enjoyed as Quinn mostly unleashed her fury. It made for a fun final fifty minutes of their trip home.

* * *

Stairs were not Santana Lopez's friend. The main floor bathroom, in turn, was the staircase's sneaky, underhanded accomplice. Truly, she missed her upstairs shower, but her staircase had always been steep, and the other girls hadn't felt comfortable bringing her up there, so she was in the downstairs washroom, facing off with her mortal enemy. Her mother had a thing for strange, antique looking bathtubs, and the one she was standing in was peculiarly narrow, with rounded walls so that there was a very narrow area for her to stand in when she took a shower. It was, ideally, a tub to bathe in; she knew that much, yet it was the only shower she had access to, and she needed a good shower. So there she was, swearing at the tub beneath her that was as frictionless as a ken doll, but with a larger potential to cause tremendous pain.

After her thirty minute battle to remain upright during her attempt at cleaning the grime off of herself, she escaped victorious. Technically, they had all missed school that day, so she really didn't have anywhere to go; thus, she more or less decided to let her hair air-dry and toweled herself off, slipping on a pair of shorts and an oversized cheerios t-shirt to lounge in. It had been tricky to put the plastic covering over her wounds, even trickier to shower without harming herself, but she felt she did an admirable job, and she wasn't about to expend any extra energy that day.

When she stepped out of the washroom, in the duck slippers Britt had bought her three Christmases ago, she found herself in a mostly silent house. She was fairly sure that her mother was upstairs passed out drunk, or drinking herself to that result, but she'd also expected to hear the voices of the three friends that brought her home. Admittedly, she kind of worried that they'd left already, despite likely having free schedules.

Santana wandered through her main floor on her crutches, finding no one in the kitchen, the back yard, the living room or the lobby. She slowly made her way to the den and found the door slightly ajar; curious, she pushed it open with one of her metal supports and moseyed on in, finding Rachel making her bed. Her bed that was supposed to be in her room, but was sitting in the middle of the den, by the fireplace and the large shelf of her dad's old books. It was weird. Nice, but weird.

"What's up?" she asked, taking in the scene, wondering where the blondes scampered off to.

"Oh, Santana! I didn't know you were out of the shower. I…may have suggested that Brittany and Quinn help me bring your bed down here. I didn't want you sleeping on a couch if you couldn't go upstairs, and I noticed all of the bedrooms were upstairs, so…we brought it here. Is that okay?" Rachel asked at her nervous mile-a-minute pace, obviously worried that she'd overstepped her bounds. Santana hadn't ever really been fond of the room, but she didn't hate it either. It just wasn't her room. That said, if she couldn't have her room, it was nice to have something from it.

"It's cool, thanks for bringing it down. It isn't the same as my room, but it's nice anyway. I appreciate it." She said, hobbling over to it and propping herself gingerly down onto the end of it, where Rachel soon joined her.

"Santana…it…well…it's almost time for my dad to get home from work, and I really, really want to stay here with you, but they're worried sick. I promise I'll call you later, alright?" Rachel asked, smiling brightly at her. How could she say no to that? She couldn't.

"Rachel, I told you I'd get you home safe and sound, back to your parents. If that didn't happen, I'd be breaking my promise. So go home, I'll be alright. I promise." Santana sad softly, taking Rachel's hand and giving it a light squeeze.

Rachel just smiled even brighter and wrapped her arms around Santana's neck, gently of course, and pulled her into a brief hug. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, if you're still planning on going to school? You know you can take the week off. Any doctor would let you."

"I'll be okay, and I need to show off that I fought a wolf and only came away with a sprained leg and some flesh wounds. Thanks, by the way, for leaving the blood on the hatchets. There's wolf fur stuck to the dried blood, and it'll really sell people on what happened. No one's going to ever give me shit, and people will think you're a badass too. It's a win-win." Santana explained, hoping her logic made sense to Rachel. She didn't want the girl to worry about school, she'd have them covered.

"Okay, if you say so Santana. Brittany and Quinn are just out getting food…Quinn misses having movie night, and she was thinking you'd be alright with having one with them?" Rachel asked her, and Santana really, really tried not to be too ecstatic. Even if Rachel wasn't there, and she DID want Rachel there too, she really wanted to just spend some fun time with the blondes. It had been months since she'd done anything like it. And she knew by the glimmer in the diva's eye that maybe Quinn wasn't the person that thought the idea up, but she liked knowing her friends wanted to be there with her, and were taking initiative.

"That sounds great, Rach. I wish you could be here too, but…can I hold you to Saturday? I was thinking of doing a TV series marathon of something, and…I mean you don't have to come, I know you're busy." Santana rambled a little, feeling a little nervous. She always was when she asked anything of her friends.

"I'll be there at 4pm sharp, Santana. Is that okay?" the diva asked, earning a quick nod. It was more than okay. "Excellent. Well, have a wonderful night with Quinn and Brittany. I'll call you around ten o'clock." Rachel finished leaning in again for what Santana thought would be a hug. Instead, a pair of soft, full lips pressed onto her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth, and lingered for a second. And then Rachel was skipping out of the room. And then Britt and Q came back with food. And then they started watching Ferngully. _And Rachel Berry kissed me…_

Honestly, she had an amazing time with her two oldest friends, laughing and singing along to the silly animated movies Britt had picked out to watch. It felt like home, being with them again, smiling with them, and laying side by side with them on her bed again. It was amazing.

But through it all, that kiss lingered. And while she tried to force her thoughts to the back burner, she couldn't help but mull it over. It had lasted a second and a half, maybe two seconds tops; the diva's lips had been so ridiculously soft. She hadn't even seen the girl put on chap-stick during the whole weekend or at the hospital, yet they were like, magically soft. She didn't understand how something so soft could make her skin feel like it was on fire; a good fire, of course. A great fire. A really great fire that made her body tingle and her stomach do that same Olympic-grade uneven bar routine.

Santana would be the first to admit that it was really nice, waking up with her those mornings in the tent, and that the girl's body just fit with hers. She was really soft and her hair was nice, and her eyes were always really vibrant and expressive, and she was so enthusiastic and adorably curious, and she was just really cute, and she had a crush on Rachel Berry.

It was kind of weird. But kind of okay.

So when she was returning from the kitchen with a glass of water at eleven fifteen, and her phone started vibrating, she was kind of worried. Rachel had called her at ten, and they'd said a few words, but nothing substantial. Just standard fare, like 'sweet dreams' and all that. Finding the two blondes asleep on the right side of the bed, Santana slid into the left and answered the call.

"Rach, what's up?" she asked softly, not wanting to wake the other two, and also wanting to show the girl she was worried. It was an hour past Rachel's standard bedtime, and she knew the diva didn't like losing sleep anymore than she did.

"I…I had a…the wolf…there was so much blood, and…I needed to hear you, and…" Rachel choked out as she sobbed into the phone; Santana quickly deduced that the girl had had something of a nightmare about the incident, and she couldn't help but wince. She'd hoped it wouldn't happen. She really didn't want Rachel to be upset at all, and at that moment she really just wanted to be with the diva, holding her, telling her it was okay. Santana cursed her weakened body for not letting her run to wherever the hell Rachel lived so she could comfort her. She'd have to eventually get the girl's address again, when she went for the party earlier in the year, Quinn had driven her and she hadn't paid attention.

"Estrella, please listen, alright? I'm safe, I'm alright, the wolf is gone." She said in her best soothing voice she could manage. "Just work on your breathing alright? Why don't I tell you my boring plans for the rest of the week, and you just focus on my voice and relax, okay?"

As she listed out each day's plans, from meals to activities, to her predictions on how badly her bathtub will abuse her, she listened intently to Rachel's slowly quieting sobs. Eventually, as she was deep into Friday's plans, she heard arguably the best sound of the night; that soft little snore Rachel owned when she was asleep and content.

She left her phone on and placed it beside her, knowing she had evenings free on her phone plan, and she assumed Rachel did too. She wanted to be there if the girl had another attack, and she'd grown used to the little snore over the weekend. She'd simply grown used to Rachel.

Santana shrugged and pulled up the covers, feeling entirely content with her situation. Sure, she'd gotten in a car crash, mauled by a wolf, and basically abandoned yet again by her mother, but things weren't all bad. She gained a new friend, she had her old friends back, she was home in her bed, and Rachel Berry had kissed her; straight or not, she wasn't about to let that go unrewarded. She'd at least see if she could have anything with the pint-sized diva she'd grown to care about.

Things were looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> And it's done! Finished! The end!
> 
> I know it probably wasn't the most satisfying conclusion. My goal when starting this fic was to have Santana and Rachel develop a friendship and some feelings, but I never really considered them acting on them so much. Besides, it was like, a weekend. Rachel still has some things to work out, and so does Santana, but I wanted the seeds of romance to be planted by the end. And truly, they were. And, well, as Quinn stated, Santana is a bit stubborn when she decides on something. :P Perhaps the sequel I wrote will involve something along those lines… ;) It could be fun. There might be antics. It's out now, called 'Mirrorball' if any of you are interested.


End file.
